Subject 5308
by xoxoeosvugirl
Summary: There once was a girl without a name. A girl looking for herself, hope, a future. Follow Subject 5308's journey from the School to the streets of Los Angeles, where she looks in all the wrong places. All she wanted was someone to love her. AU-Cover by TheCatWithTheHat
1. Prologue: The Girl Without a Name

**A/N: For those of you who have read my story Pursuit of Happiness, you'll know that in Chapter 10 Max meets a little girl without a name or a family. This is her story. **

**Plot: **Most five year olds have a family, toys, love. Not this girl. Called only "Subject 5308" by her "caretakers," she has lived her whole life in a secret lab called the School in Los Angeles. Unlike a girl she meets named Max, who was given wings, 5308 has super-intelligence, reading "Catcher in the Rye" and learning algebra at age five. At age thirteen, she begins to catch on to the fact that her life isn't that normal, and that there is more out there for her. This story will detail her life, both inside the prison called "the School" and outside, on the streets, where 5308 tries to find meaning for herself and ends up being sucked into the world of teen prostitution. This isn't a happy story, but it's her story.

**Rating: **T for obvious reasons.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Maximum Ride. You might want to read Pursuit of Happiness before reading this for a little background knowledge, but you don't need to.

**Bonus Disclaimer: **This story involves illegal experimentation, teen prostitution, drug use, and child abuse. I DO NOT condone any of the aforementioned things. This isn't some happy, fluffy story so if you're looking for that click the "back" button. Also if you or a loved one is involved in teen prostitution, PLEASE call law enforcement. This has been a Public Service Announcement.

* * *

_"In my dream I was almost there  
_

_But you pulled me aside and said you're going nowhere  
_

_They say we are the chosen few  
_

_But we're wasted  
_

_And that's why we're still waiting..."_

_-Modern Man, _Arcade Fire

**Prologue **

**The Girl Without a Name**

I don't have a real name.

I never have.

The only thing _they _call me is Subject 5308. That's what's written on my ID bracelet that I'm required to keep on at all times.

I don't know why I don't have a real name. _They _all have names. To me, they're Dr. Stevens, Dr. Wilkinson, Dr. Newman, Dr. Gilbert. But to each other they're Rebecca, John, Cara, Robert.

If I had a name, I guess I would call myself Phoebe. I like the name Phoebe. My favorite book, _The Catcher in the Rye, _had a character named Phoebe. I think that would be a good name to have.

I first read that book when I was five. Yes, five. I don't live in a house, or an apartment, or a condo. I live in a lab. I couldn't tell you exactly where it is aside from the fact that it's somewhere in Los Angeles, California.

I was born here. I don't have parents, either. Well, I must, but I don't know them. _They_'ve raised me since I was born. They did something to me that made me incredibly smart for my age. I'm thirteen and I already have my high school diploma, thanks to online classes (all advanced, of course). _They _say I can start college classes soon. Although I don't know what I'm supposed to do with a college degree. I'm not allowed to leave, aside from short trips with the scientists here once in a while. Sometimes, they take me to the beach or the mall or to a movie.

I wish I could go out more. I don't like it here. _They _do all sorts of tests on me. Bad ones, that hurt me. I don't know why. I wish I did.

Some of _them _apologize for it. Most don't.

The only thing that keeps me going is reading. I love books. In my books, the characters get to go to cool places and live in real houses with real parents. I want to do that. I want to travel, and see the world. The _real _world. A world I might never get to see.

I know other people live here, but I never see anyone besides _them. _The only other person I've ever met was Max. I'll never forget her. I met her when I was five. She told me to believe in myself.

I used to believe in myself. I used to think I was special. I don't know if I am anymore. I hope I'm better than _they _treat me. Other than "Subject 5308," they call me "it" or "that one." It doesn't make me feel so special.

I still have some hope. I want a house, a job, a family of my own. I want a mother and father and a sister and two dogs. Dr. Stevens talks about her husband and kids all the time.

I don't know why I can't live with her in her house. I don't want to live here anymore. I really don't.

"5308," a scientist calls, opening the door to my room, the only place I can call home. "Come with me."

I don't have any choice when _they _call my number. I don't have any choices at all. I have to go with him whether I like it or not.

Wordlessly, I stand up and follow him out the door. I learned a long time ago that what I say doesn't matter. I'm just a thing to _them. _It's not fair. I don't think that's how it's supposed to be.

Max left this place when she was seventeen. I know I'm leaving long before then.


	2. Another Day

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing, TheCatWithTheHat! I've been checking out your story and it's great (: To everyone else, pwetty pwease review! I would appreciate it very much and it might be an incentive for me to update this and my other stories as well (; Love it? Hate it? Have questions/comments/concerns? Let me know and press that big beautiful blue button down there (: **

**Peace out, fly on, keep calm and carry on, hide yo' kids, stay classy, San Diego, ect, **

**Jess (: **

* * *

"Good morning, 5308!" Dr. Newman greets me happily. "How are you doing? Sleep well, I hope?"

I stare at her for at least a full second before replying.

I really don't know how to talk to her sometimes. She's always so upbeat, so happy, like she's not injecting me with all sorts of stuff.

Some of the scientists here actually like seeing people in pain. I think she's one of them.

"Um, yeah," I tell her. "Great. I am...great."

"Very good!" she says, clapping. "Do anything fun lately?"

This time I am tempted to say something sarcastic. _For sure. Getting stuck with needles, having people watch my every move, and getting brain scans is just so much fun.  
_

But I don't. Being sarcastic was what got Max in trouble so much around here. She was able to leave because she has a mother. Max went to live with her in New York.

I don't have a mother in New York. I don't have a Plan B. There's nowhere else for me to go.

"Dr. Stevens took me back to the beach last weekend," I tell her, pointing to Dr. Stevens, who is on the other side of the room. She's one of the few scientists here I like.

Dr. Newman's smile grows.

"Oh, isn't that just lovely?" she says. She turns to Dr. Wilkinson, a scientist who isn't so fond of me.

I don't know why. I didn't do anything to him.

"I love hearing about her spending some time in an outside setting, don't you?" she says to him.

"I don't know what they're trying to prove." He's talking about me like I'm not standing right there. "It's not like she's going to..."

Dr. Newman clears her throat, and Dr. Wilkinson immediately stops talking.

"I'm not going to what?" I ask.

"Nothing," he snaps, glaring at me.

"Alright," Dr. Newman says. "I'm going to tell you a word, and you need to say the first thing that comes to mind, whatever it is." She picks up a clipboard and pen.

"House."

_Home_.

"Tree."

_Leaves. _

"Desk."

_Papers._

"City."

_Buildings._

"Country."

_America._

"America."

_Freedom._

"Iraq."

_War. _

"Terrorism."

_You people. _

Dr. Newman, shocked, drops the clipboard.

Whoops. Didn't mean to say that out loud.

"What did you say, 5308?" Dr. Wilkinson demands.

_Damn damn damn. _

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

"I asked you a question," he says, raising his voice.

"I was just being honest," I tell him meekly.

"Honest, huh? Well, how 'bout I tell the Director, then we'll see how _honest _you are!"

Dr. Newman quickly recovers. "I _did_ tell her to say the first thing that comes to mind. She's good at following directions," she says. "Very interesting answer, though."

She makes a note on her clipboard.

I don't know what's so interesting. I just called her a terrorist.

"Shall we move on?" Dr. Stevens suggests.

"I oughta-" Dr. Wilkinson begins, but stops himself.

Dr. Stevens leads me to an operating table and tells me to lie down.

I do so, hating how the cold metal feels. But I'm used to it.

"We'll be running test 127b," she says to Dr. Wilkinson, who hands her a needle.

I want to run away. I hate needles.

After I get out of here, I'm never going near another needle again.

She pushes the syringe into my arm. My head immediately feels foggy, like I just woke up, only worse.

"Now, we're going to do the same thing again. Car."

_Driving, _I think. But I can't say it. My mouth can't even form the words.

It's like I'm drunk. I've never been drunk before, but I've read about it in books.

"Car," she repeats.

"It's useless," Dr. Wilkinson snorts. "It can't even talk after a simple injection."

Tears fill my eyes. I'm not an _it. _I'm a person. At least, I think I am.

"S-s-stop," I tell him after several attempts, the only word I'm able to get out.

"That's enough, John," Dr. Stevens chastises him. She smiles kindly. "Why don't we take a break?"

I want to hug her. She actually treats me like a human being, not a toy to mess around with.

"Thanks," I manage.

Dr. Stevens puts her arm around me and leads me out of the room. I can't even walk straight thanks to the injection they gave me. I keep bumping into the walls.

It's embarrassing.

"Don't listen to him," she tells me. "You are _not _useless. Not one bit."

I want to believe her, so much.

"You're a real fighter," Dr. Stevens continues. "Maybe if you're feeling better later, we can grab some ice cream or something."

I look up and nod.

"Good. Ice cream it is." She takes a deep breath before helping me get into my room and into bed. I feel so out of it, I close my eyes immediately.

"Hang in there, kiddo," she says, turning the lights off. "I'll let you get some rest."

As she leaves the room, I hear her mutter to herself.

"It's a damn shame that they treat you like that. You could really make a difference in the world, do something great. It's a damn shame."

I don't really know what she's talking about, but it makes me smile. Makes me feel hopeful.

And I don't feel hopeful too often these days.


	3. Out on the Town

That afternoon, after I had recovered a little bit, I decided to take Dr. Stevens up on her offer to go out for ice cream.

The only reason they allow me to leave sometimes is because they know I have nowhere to go. I've thought about making a run for it before. But they're right. I really don't have anywhere to go.

"Ready?" she asks, starting her car. I nod, looking out the window. Though I don't get to go out too much, I'm grateful for the time I do spend outside.

She puts on the radio. They're playing a song I like.

_I'm at a payphone, trying to call home_

_All of my change I spent on you_

_Where have the times gone, baby it's all wrong_

_Where are the plans we made for two?_

"Do you like this kind of music? I can change it, if you want."

I like her. She's the only one who gives me choices around here.

"No thanks. I like this song," I tell her. She smiles.

"Me too."

We drive around the palm tree-lined streets for a while before pulling into an ice cream shop, Beachside Cones.

"Here we are." She turns the car off and opens the door, and I do the same.

I love feeling the ocean breeze in my hair. Today, instead of wearing a hospital gown that feels like plastic, I get to wear jean shorts and a T-shirt. The shirt is pink with bright blue stripes. I'm also wearing flip-flops, shoes that let the warm sand seep in between my toes.

I smile, feeling the sun on my face. "Too bad I forgot my bathing suit," I tell Dr. Stevens.

"It's okay," she says. "The Director only gave us an hour anyway."

That's the only thing I don't like about going out. It's such a hassle. If anyone wants to take me out of the lab, they have to get approved by the Director, a harsh woman I've only seen from time to time.

She's one of those people like I read about and see on TV. Pretty on the outside, but not the least bit kind or caring. Sometimes, it takes a bit of arguing from Dr. Stevens or one of the others to convince her it's okay for me to go out.

Usually they say it's for "scientific purposes." Why does everything have to be for scientific purposes? Why can't I just do what I want?

I order a cup of maple walnut ice cream, and Dr. Stevens gets vanilla with sprinkles. Happily, I pick out a table with a view of the ocean, and we sit down.

"It's your birthday next week," Dr. Stevens reminds me. "Fourteen. What a big year. I remember when you were only five. Even then, you were so smart and unique."

"Thanks," I say. "I can't believe it either."

Time sure flies when you spend your life locked up.

"I'm sure you'll be able to do something fun. Maybe we can see a movie? The remake of _The Great Gatsby_'s coming out soon. I know you loved that book. Or maybe we could come back to the beach and go swimming! Whatever you want. It's your birthday."

I know what I want to do. I want to have a pool party, like I've read about and seen on TV. I want friends to invite over. Friends my age, who like shopping and reading and talking about unimportant things. I want to have a giant cake with chocolate frosting. I want a boy to kiss me and tell me I'm beautiful.

Nobody ever tells me I'm beautiful.

I take another bite of my ice cream. "Maybe we can go to the beach, then get dinner somewhere in the city?"

I've only been into Downtown Los Angeles once.

Dr. Stevens tilts her head and smiles. "I think we can make that happen."

"Yay!" I exclaim, feigning excitement.

I'm actually not all that excited about my birthday. Turning fourteen only means another year closer to a life I won't live.

I'm far from being stupid (and I don't just mean my IQ). I hear the scientists talk about me. I'll have an education, sure, but I'll never do anything with it.

I'll never have the college experience, never live in a dorm with other girls I love and love to hate.

I'll never travel. I'll never go to Europe or Asia.

I'll never get married, never have kids. I'll never get to cheer on my kids as they win a soccer game or ace a big test.

I'll never get to win a soccer game or ace a big test of my own.

I'll never do anything important.

Sure, they say I'll be able to work at the lab once I'm old enough. But that's the last thing I want to do. After a lifetime of pain and hurt, doing the same thing to someone else isn't high on my list of goals.

These thoughts bring tears to my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Dr. Stevens asks softly.

"No," I admit. I usually hate showing any kind of emotion in front of _them, _but it's pretty obvious I'm upset at the moment. "I just want a real life."

Her face falls sadly. "Well," she says, trying to hide her own feelings, "you have lots of things you like to do. And don't you like going and doing things?"

"It's not the same," I tell her. "I want to live out here."

"You know," she tells me. "Having what you call a 'real life' isn't all it's cracked up to be."

I can tell, she's trying to believe what she says. Trying to be like the others.

"But I think you'll have a real life eventually," Dr. Stevens continues. "Even if it takes a little longer than most people."

"Thanks," I say, wiping my eyes with a napkin. I catch a glimpse of myself in the glass table and laugh. "I'm sorry. I bet I look ridiculous."

"No, no," she insists. "You look...fine."

She checks her watch. "We have to head back soon," she says apologetically. "No more tests today. I promise."

I smile. "That's good."

For a minute, I actually believe that she might have some control over that. Maybe, when we get back, I can read a new book. Something I've never read before. Maybe I'll reread _Animal Farm, __The Help, _or one of the _Hunger Games _books.

But I know that probably won't happen. Chances are, as soon as I get back, Dr. Wilkinson or one of the other scientists will grab a hold of me to do some test, get another awful injection or something. After all, I'm a test subject. That's why I'm there.


	4. Disparate Youth

**A/N: Hi! I'm so glad this story is getting reviews (:**

**Enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

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For once, I had a peaceful night's sleep the night before. Nobody came in at one A.M to take a blood sample or anything like that.

Of course, around here, peace only lasts for so long. I was only awake for a few minutes, getting ready to take a shower and get dressed, when I heard the door to my room open.

"And this is our most successful experiment yet, Subject 5308," someone says, leading a group of white-coated individuals into my room.

Great. It's like this is a tour at a museum.

I look up at the speaker. It's only my best friend ever, the Director.

I hope you caught the irony there.

"She looks completely normal to me," a scientist says, eyeing me. A woman standing next to him nods in agreement.

"She's genetically modified," the Director begins, "to have an intelligence level surpassing that of most Ivy League graduates. Including myself, I must say."

The group laughs.

"Well, isn't that something?" one of them exclaims, making a note. "What's she done so far?"

"I'm thirteen and I graduated high school last year," I tell them.

The scientist looks at me like I have three heads.

As if he didn't expect me to say anything.

"What's your favorite subject?" he asks, speaking slowly, like he's talking to a five year old, as opposed to a high school graduate.

_A high school graduate, _I think. I'm probably the first teenager in the United States to have graduated high school without attending a single football game, pep rally or dance. Not to mention the fact that most of my would-be peers are in seventh or eighth grade right now.

"I like them all," I say, shrugging. It's true. Anything's a good distraction from what they do to me.

"She's especially skilled in English and biology," the Director explains. "That's why she'll make a good addition to our staff one day." She pats my shoulder.

"That's excellent," a man says.

"Thank you." The Director grins, obviously taking it as a compliment intended for her as opposed to me.

It's more than a little insulting.

"Shall we move on?" she suggests, leading the group out of my room. "If you think 5308 is fascinating, you'll love 361. You know, once we had a subject here with actual functional _wings..._it's such a shame she had to leave us!"

I shut the door behind them. I hate dealing with things like that. People showing me off like I'm a fucking sculpture or something.

Pardon my French. It's just obnoxious.

I take a shower, then change into a white T-shirt and yellow skirt I got from Dr. Walker for my thirteenth birthday, even though I know I'll probably have to wear a hospital gown for their latest tests.

Dr. Walker had worked here for as long as I can remember, but quit last year after getting a job offer in San Francisco.

I miss her. She, like Dr. Stevens, actually cared about me. I can't say that about too many people here.

Since nobody comes for me, I stretch out on my bed and open one of my books, _Water for_ _Elephants_. It's about a vet who joins the circus and rescues the love of his life from the evil circus ringmaster.

I want to follow in the guy from _Water for Elephants_'s footsteps. I want to hop on a train and let it take me wherever.

Looking up at the window above my bed, I can see the sun peeking through. I wish I could open the window, get some fresh air or something. But it's bolted shut.

There really is no way out of this place.

I start reading the book, losing track of time. Finally, someone opens my door.

"You're all dressed up," he says. "Got a hot date?"

I sigh, closing the book. "Morning, Dr. Batchelder."

Dr. Batchelder is the father of Max, the girl with wings I met when I was little. Ever since she escaped and moved to New York City to live with her mother, Dr. Batchelder's been pretty bitter about the whole thing.

Supposedly, he tried to take her back, but Max's mother threatened to call the police.

Or something like that.

I think she should've called the cops. Then I wouldn't be here. I'd live with a real family, like I saw once on that show _Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. _

He grabs me by the elbow, walking me down the hallway.

"I was supposed to have the day off today," he mutters.

I don't really know what to say to that.

"Sorry," I tell him.

"I wasn't talking to you."

Of course not. Of course he wasn't. _They _never are.

He opens another door leading to a typical medical room. In the center is a metal table, surrounded by cabinets filled with equipment.

"Wait here," he commands. "Dr. Leighton'll be in in a few minutes."

I shudder involuntarily. Dr. Leighton's in charge of all of the drug testing that goes on here. Whenever she's involved, it usually means unpleasant side effects, including but not limited to: fainting spells, unbearable pain, vomiting up the little food they give me, feeling so anxious I feel like screaming, ect.

"Okay," I tell him.

He nods at me before closing the door again.

The sad part is, all I can hope for is that today they'll give me something that'll knock me out so I don't have to feel anything.

Because I'd rather feel nothing than get hurt again.


	5. Misery

I don't like Dr. Leighton one bit.

Remember when I said that some of the scientists here like seeing people (i.e. me) in pain? She's one of them.

She's got that look in her eye, the look that scares me to death.

From what I've read and seen, it seems that all evil people have been abused or mistreated at some point. That, for them, justifies them hurting other people.

I honestly don't care what happened to Dr. Leighton, if anything happened at all. I still despise her.

"Hello, hello!" she greets me, walking quickly into the room and closing the door behind her. "We haven't seen each other in a while."

"No, we haven't." _Thankfully. _

"It's been, what, two weeks since I last saw you?" She taps her chin, thinking. "A _very_ long time."

I gulp. I'm scared of what she might try to do for make up for lost time.

"In fact, I think it might have been more than two weeks."

"No, only two weeks," I say, even though I have no clue.

She smiles oddly. "I'll take your word for it. You're the only almost-fourteen-year-old I know who knows multivariable calculus. Speaking of, are you excited for your birthday?"

_I'm excited to get away from you for a day. _But I don't say that.

"Um, yeah," I say cautiously.

"Well, since it's almost your birthday, I'll only give you one shot today. Consider it a gift from me to you."

_Gee, thanks. I'm overjoyed. _

"Let's get started, shall we?" She smiles again and taps the medical table in the center of the room. "You know the drill. Lie down, please."

"Why?" I ask.

"It'll make my job a lot easier."

I do as I'm told. There's just no way out of it.

Dr. Leighton then restrains me to the table, something I'm not exactly happy about.

"What the-"

"Shh. It's okay. It's just for safety purposes."

Okay, I don't trust her creepily calm voice. Sue me.

She picks up a syringe from the cart next to the table and approaches me before pushing the needle into my arm.

I feel the effects immediately. First, I feel cold, then hot. Then cold again.

It's like somebody dumped a bucket of ice cold water over my head (I would know. People actually have done that before, for "reflex testing). Only ten times worse.

Then, I realize I can't move.

I can't move at all.

_I. Can't. Move._

I open my mouth to scream for help, but I realize I can't talk either.

Jesus Christ. Jesus _fucking _Christ. What the hell did that bitch do?

Dr. Leighton stands over me. "How're you doing, sweetie? Not too well?"

She's taunting me. I can't stand her.

"You know, Dr. Wilkinson told me about you talking back to him a few days ago. We really can't tolerate things like that around here. We might have to use this formula on you a bit more if you keep that up. And I'm sure none of us would like that."

I should've known something would happen after that incident. It was one little slip of the tongue, but the scientists don't need much of an excuse to hurt me.

I don't consider myself a violent person, but I want to strangle her. I want to push her off a cliff. Her and Dr. Wilkinson and the Director and every other asshole around here.

"Should I give you the antidote? Hmmm." She taps her chin again.

_Make it stop already. __PLEASE. _

"Okay," she says, finally relenting. "I think you've learned your lesson." She injects me with another needle.

I relax, gasping for breath.

"I didn't hear a, _thank you, Dr. Leighton,_" she says mockingly.

"Thanks," I mutter reluctantly, remembering I'm still at her mercy, strapped to an operating table.

She unstraps me, allowing me to stand up, albeit on a pair of wobbly legs.

"Be careful, now," she warns me with that same stupid grin on her face. "I don't want you to get in trouble again."

I don't say anything else to her. Dr. Leighton opens the door and grabs my wrist, dragging me down the hallway.

All the while, she chatters on about nonsense I could care less about. She must have no conscience.

I spot Dr. Stevens across the hall and wave to her, breaking out of Dr. Leighton's grasp.

"Are you okay?" Dr. Stevens mouths. I shake my head.

Dr. Leighton grabs me forcefully. "Don't make me warn you again."

Dr. Stevens turns away, as if she can't stand to watch.

She's the lucky one. She can walk away from it all.

Dr. Leighton opens the door to my room and shoves me inside before letting go of my wrist.

I rub it gently. Her manicured nails had dug into my skin, leaving angry red marks.

"Bye-bye," she says in a singsong voice. "Oh, and happy birthday!"

I collapse onto the floor in tears once she's gone.

I can't take this anymore.

I can't take another day of this.

These people are the cruelest, worst, most horrible people on Earth.

Even Dr. Stevens can't help me.

I sit up, thinking. I have to get out of here, somehow. I can't break out of here, that's for sure. All the doors are always locked and there's always someone supervising me. The place is surrounded by a fence, anyway, and I can't fly like Max, so that's out of the question.

Then, I remember.

My birthday's in three days. I'm going out of here, going to the beach and then into the city. That's the perfect opportunity.

When Dr. Stevens's back is turned, I'll make a run for it. Then, the world is my oyster (I think that's how the saying goes).

I'll be able to do whatever I want, finally.

Go to college. A real college. Get a job in a place that doesn't specialize in torturing children. Find some friends, maybe a boyfriend.

I smile, wiping my eyes.

This is my chance. I'm going to get away. I'm going to be successful. Then, they'll all be sorry.


	6. Enough is Enough

It's a day or so after the Dr. Leighton incident, and I'm lying on another medical table being examined. What a surprise.

At least things around here are predictable. And at least Dr. Stevens is the one with me today. Her tests are never that bad.

She waves a flashlight in my eyes and writes something down. "How're you doing today?"

"Better," I tell her.

"I heard about what happened yesterday," she says. "I'm so sorry."

_Why didn't you stop her? _I think. _You know what Dr. Leighton is like. _

"It's okay."

"If there's anything I can do, let me know."

_Let me out of here. Take me with you, and let me live a normal life with you and your family. __Give me a chance to be something other than a lab rat. _

"I'm fine. Besides, my birthday's in a couple of days." I attempt to smile.

"That's right!" She puts the flashlight away. "Okay. We're done."

"That's it?" I ask. "No other tests today?"

"No way, Jose," Dr. Stevens jokes. "I was able to move the schedule around. I figured after yesterday, you'd need a break."

I'm grateful that someone cares about me.

I'm glad that there's someone out there who listens to me.

Someone who treats me like a human being.

"Do you want me to take you to the lounge? Maybe there's something good on TV."

"That sounds...fun," I tell her, standing up. She opens the door, letting me walk out.

Unlike the rest of them, Dr. Stevens doesn't hold onto me as we walk. She lets me walk freely down the hallway.

It's little things like that that make all the difference.

"And here we are," she says, opening the door to the lounge.

Okay, in all honesty, it's not much of a lounge. A few beanbag chairs, a couch, a TV, some movies, some magazines, and that's about it. It's definitely no Starbucks. But it's better than being strapped to a table and shot full of drugs or left in my room all day. At least I have something to do here.

Most of the time I bring a book and read. I'm not much of a TV fan. It upsets me to see all the kids my age, doing things I should be doing. Going places I should be allowed to go, and seeing people I should be able to see.

Even shows like _Law and Order _make me mad. On those shows, the people who hurt children always get in trouble. I've been here my whole life, and _they _have been able to hurt me with no repercussions. It's just not fair.

Everyone is so happy on TV. When they have problems, they have normal, everyday problems, like getting a bad grade or forgetting to feed the dog. I want problems like those. I don't want to wake up every day wondering what's going to happen to me. I don't want to live my life on _their _terms.

"Do you want me to stay with you for a while?" she asks.

I look around. As usual, there's nobody in here. On the rare occasion that there is someone else here, they don't talk to me.

I'm used to it, I really am. When most people talk to me, they're usually yelling at me.

"Yeah," I tell her. "That'd be nice."

She picks up a stack of cards from the coffee table. "Want to play War or something?" she asks.

"Sure." I sit down next to her as she divides up the cards.

All of a sudden, the door opens. It's a group of scientists.

I recognize a few of them: Dr. Leighton, Dr. Wilkinson, and Dr. Zarelli. _  
_

Only the three scientists I hate the most.

Dr. Stevens smiles diplomatically, though I know she doesn't like them either. "We're playing cards, if you three would like to join."

I freeze nervously. _Please be looking for someone else, _I pray. _I can't do this. Not today. _

"That's cute," Dr. Leighton says, a sadistic grin on her face. "But we'd actually like to see 5308, so you'll have to put your little game on hold."

"She doesn't have anything on the schedule today," Dr. Stevens says, moving towards me protectively.

"We just want to borrow her for a few _simple _tests," Dr. Leighton insists.

"Like I said, she doesn't have any tests scheduled." She stands up, as if to block them from getting to me.

"I talked to the Director and she said we could squeeze something in," Dr. Wilkinson says.

"Can't it wait? She had a really rough day yesterday," Dr. Stevens tells them. "And it's her birthday tomorrow."

"She'll have more birthdays."

"Maybe not, if you keep treating her like this!" Dr. Stevens yells.

Dr. Leighton approaches me, hands on her hips. "5308, come with us," she orders me.

I don't want to.

"Amy, do you really need to do this?" Dr. Stevens asks Dr. Leighton.

"Come on," she tells me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me up. Still holding on to me, she tells Dr. Stevens, "We have to do this procedure."

"What procedure?" I ask.

I don't want to do any more tests. I don't want to be cut open. I don't want to be here.

She ignores me, dragging me out of the room.

_Let me go, _I think as she pushes me into a medical room. _Let me go. LET ME GO. _

Before she shuts the door, I try to wriggle away and run out of the room, but Dr. Wilkinson grabs me. "Don't try anything," he tells me. "You remember what Dr. Leighton did yesterday."

I do. But at the moment, I don't care what they inject me with. I'm not going down without a fight.

"Just leave me alone!" I shout. I push past the scientists and towards the door.

"Good God," Dr. Wilkinson snaps. "Sedate it already!"

I'm almost out the door when I feel a sharp pinch in my neck.

_Shit, _I think, sinking to the floor. I try to will myself to stay awake. But I can't.

The last thing I hear is Dr. Leighton smugly telling me, "I tried to tell you."


	7. Happy Birthday to 5308

On my fourteenth birthday, I sleep all the way to Golden Beach.

I'm still trying to fight off the effects of _their _latest tests. While I was unconscious, _they_ operated on my spinal cord and injected me with all kinds of chemicals.

Nevertheless, I refused to let it stop me from going out. Who knows when I'd have this chance again?

"We're here," Dr. Stevens announces, parking the car. She puts on her sunglasses and grabs sunscreen and two towels.

I smile, stepping outside into the warm air.

The beach is my favorite place on Earth.

I love the sounds: people laughing, waves splashing against the shore, seagulls flying up above.

I love the smells: sand and saltwater.

I love the feeling: warm sun and freedom.

When I'm here, I'm free. No matter what tests _they _run, I always feel amazing once I'm here.

"Remember, 5308," Dr. Stevens reminds me, "stay where I can see you. Don't take your ID bracelet off. I know it's annoying, but we can't afford to…" Her voice trails off. She's having a hard time at keeping up with the cold scientist act. "_I'd _feel terrible if anything happened to you," she finished.

I nod in understanding. "Okay."

I help her unfold the beach chairs and towels.

I laugh at the fact that they keep beach equipment at the lab. It's kind of funny.

"What's so funny?" she asks.

"Nothing. I'm just happy," I tell her.

She smiles sadly, before walking towards me and giving me a hug. "I'm glad. You haven't said that in a while."

"I haven't been happy in a while."

"I know you haven't," she says. "I know you haven't. They really hurt you, don't they?"

I shrug before nodding.

"I've tried talking to the Director, but she says it's just protocol," Dr. Stevens says with a deep sigh. "I disagree. I think there can be a balance between science and treating people with dignity." She pats my hand. "If I ever hurt you, all you have to say is 'stop.'"

"I know," I tell her. "Thank you."

"I took this job because I wanted to help people. But what good is it doing you, keeping you locked up most of the time? They really don't need to do all those tests," she continues. "You've never been to a real school, never been to a party or anything. I think if they really wanted to do a worthwhile test, they'd let you out into the real world and let you live a normal life."

I nod in agreement. "A normal life would be nice," I admit. I look down at my ID bracelet. It only says ITEX on it, with Subj. 5308 after it.

Everything I am, summarized on one paper bracelet.

"Well, I'm going in the water," I say. "Want to come?"

"That's okay. I think I'll just sit in the sun for a while." Dr. Stevens smiles.

As I turn to walk away, a woman approaches us.

"Excuse me," she says to Dr. Stevens. "Would you mind taking a picture of my daughter and I?"

I turn back around.

"No problem," Dr. Stevens says. "One…two…three…say cheese!" She snaps the picture of the woman and her daughter.

"Thank you so much, ma'am." She looks at me. "Are you here with your daughter?"

"I am," Dr. Stevens lies, smiling at me. "It's her birthday."

She perks up. "Oh. Happy birthday."

"Thanks," I tell her, before running towards the water again. Feeling the warm sun on my back, I dive in, loving the feeling of the cool water around me.

"Hey," I hear someone say. I lift my head out of the water.

It's a boy, about my age. He's attractive, with dimples and short brown hair.

I freeze up. I don't know how to talk to boys. It's hard enough for everyone, but even harder when you've never actually met one in person before.

"H-hey," I say back.

"I'm Andy," he introduces himself. "What's your name?"

Again, I freeze. I'm sure introducing myself as "Subject 5308" wouldn't go over so well.

"Phoebe," I lie.

Saying it out loud makes me happy. Like I said, I've always liked that name.

"Want to race to the ice cream place?" Andy asks.

"You're on," I tell him. We both take off.

Due to lack of food and too many tests, he easily beats me.

But not by much.

"Jeez, you're fast," I tell him.

"You're not so bad yourself," he says with a smirk. "So, where do you go to school?"

"I'm homeschooled," I tell him.

_Or was, _I think. _I'm actually graduated. _

"Oh." He looks disappointed. "I go to Pasadena High School. I'm a freshman."

"I'm a freshman too," I blurt. I don't know what that means, but it sounds cool.

"Well, I'm here with some friends, so I gotta go," he says. "But maybe we can hang out sometime, catch a movie? What's your number?"

_My number? _My face immediately flares, and I rush to hide my ID bracelet.

"If you don't have a phone, that's cool. We can Facebook."

_Facebook? What's that? _

"Cool," I say. "I like books."

He looks confused.

"What?" he asks.

"You said something about books. I love reading," I say. "My favorite book's _The Catcher in the Rye._ But I also like those James Patterson books."

"What are you talking about?" he asks, laughing.

"I-I-I don't know," I say. I'm embarrassed. I don't know what to say to him.

He scratches his head. "Alrighty then. See ya, Phoebe."

Turning around, he walks away.

I don't know what I did wrong.

From the ice cream stand, I can see him talking to one of his friends, looking at me, and laughing.

_Check out the weird girl, _they're undoubtedly saying. _What an idiot. _

All I wanted was to have a friend. That was all. And now I blew my only chance at one.

_It's not like I'd be able to hang out with him anyway, _I think.

I'm pretty sure the scientists would frown upon a random teenage boy interfering with their most successful experiment.

Sighing, I head back to where Dr. Stevens is sitting. She's reading a copy of the _L.A Times. _

"Anything good happening?" I ask, sitting down on the towel.

"Not really. The usual nonsense." She folds the paper and puts it into her bag. "Who was that boy you were talking to?"

"His name's Andy."

"Did you hit it off?"

"Not exactly," I tell her. "He started talking about stuff I didn't know about. I tried to go along with what he was saying but I think I messed up."

She shakes her head. "If they'd just let you interact with people your own age for once..."

"It's okay," I assure her, to make her feel better, even though it's not really okay.

"It's not," she insists. "I'll be having a few words about your situation with the Director once we get back."

Her saying that reminds me of my plan. Once we go to the city for dinner, I'm taking off. For good.

_You won't have to worry much longer, Dr. S, _I think. _I'll be out in the real world like the two of us both want pretty soon. _

I feel almost guilty for leaving her. She'll panic, no doubt, and have a lot of explaining to do once she gets back to the lab.

I'm nervous, too. I can't even talk to a boy; how am I supposed to support myself and go to school out on my own?

But I know I don't have a choice. I made my decision. I can't stay there and be abused like that anymore.

I might not have wings like that girl Max, but it's time for me to fly.


	8. Going Away

"I love this place," Dr. Stevens says as we enter the restaurant, a cute Italian place right on the beach.

We had originally decided to go into the city, but apparently, her husband proposed to her here, and we just _had _to go and reminisce.

The change of plans kind of messes up my escape tactic, but whatever. I'll find a way.

"What do you think you'll have?" she asks. "Their spaghetti carbonara is amazing."

"I think I'll have that, then," I say. "With a Caesar salad."

She reaches under her seat. "I wanted to give you something," she says, pulling out a small bag.

I look inside. In the bag is a makeup set, and a blue dress.

"Thanks!" I exclaim, standing up to hug her.

"I figured you could use some new things," Dr. Stevens says, smiling. "I'm glad you like them. My daughter helped me..."

I have to ask. "Does she know about...me?"

For some reason, I can't picture Dr. Stevens discussing me at the dinner table.

"She knows I work with you," Dr. Stevens says. "And she knows you're very special."

"I'm not that special," I tell her.

"You are. You've grown so much...I can't believe you're actually fourteen."

I can't believe it either. Fourteen years, and I haven't been killed by a test gone wrong.

Fourteen years. I've been here for fourteen years, and been poked and prodded almost every day of those fourteen years.

I don't know how I made it this far.

The waiter comes by, and we order our food.

"Do you mind taking a picture of us?" Dr. Stevens asks him, handing him a tiny camera.

"Sure," he says.

We lean closer together and smile, like she's actually my mother. Like I'm any other fourteen year old.

"That's so cute," Dr. Stevens says. "I can't wait to show the Director."

She must be able to see the grimace on my face.

"She really does care," Dr. Stevens insists.

"If she cared, I wouldn't be stuck there all the time."

"If she _didn't _care, you wouldn't be able to go out at all," she reminds me. "Some people would have you locked up in a dog crate all day."

I shudder. I definitely wouldn't want _that._

"Why?" I ask suddenly. "Why this need to hurt other people to get what you want?"

"A lot of people...detach themselves to make it easier."

"I didn't ask _how _people do it. I asked _why._"

Dr. Stevens sighs. "I guess...in the long run, it doesn't much matter what happens to one person if it helps society. _I _don't believe this," she quickly says, "but a lot of people do. Add that to wanting to be successful, and most people don't care who they hurt to get what they want."

Her answer doesn't satisfy me. I know people can be successful without hurting other people. I see it on TV all the time.

And I still don't understand why people treat me so badly.

You should treat people like you want to be treated, after all. I guess they want to be treated like shit too.

She shakes her head. I can tell she doesn't really understand either.

"I think you deserve better," Dr. Stevens says quietly.

I look down, nodding.

Luckily, our food comes, allowing us to end the uncomfortable conversation. We eat in silence for a few minutes.

"I'll be right back," Dr. Stevens says, standing up from the table. "Technically, I'm not supposed to leave you alone, but I trust you." She smiles before walking away.

_I trust you. _

I do feel bad. Like I'm letting her down. I know _she _actually cares about me and wants to make the world a better place.

But I have to do what's best for myself. So I take my bag of presents and confidently walk away from the table, walking towards the front door.

"Have a nice night," the maitre'd says kindly, holding the door open for me.

I feel paranoid for a second. What if the lab sent spies to watch me and make sure I didn't leave?

But I'm able to walk outside of the restaurant and into the ocean air without an incident.

_Freedom! _I think, stepping outside. _I'm finally free!_

My first act as a free person is to tear off the ID bracelet, the one that confirmed my place in captivity. It takes a few tries, but I finally rip it off, dropping it defiantly into the sand.

At that moment, I decide on something important.

Out here, I'm no longer Subject 5308. I will never answer to that again.

I am now Phoebe. Phoebe Benson, like Detective Olivia Benson on _Law and Order: Special Victims Unit._

No real person ever got by with just a number. Well, I have a name now. I'm a real person.

Then, I run. I need to get away before Dr. Stevens or someone else finds me.

I run down the road, farther and farther away from the beach.

It's hard. I'm pretty skinny, but like I mentioned earlier, I don't have much muscle tone.

It's not like I've gotten a chance to exercise much before now, except, of course, when they'd do physical tests on me.

In addition to my new name, I make another decision. Phoebe Benson will be athletic.

A few cars stop on my journey. I know what that's called-hitchhiking.

I also know it's incredibly dangerous.

"Do you need any help?" a woman says, stopping her car. I shake my head.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine," I snap. Finally, she drives away, and I continue walking.

I finally spot a hotel: the Santa Monica Embassy Suites.

I don't have any money, and I'm not technically old enough to work. But I know I need a job and a place to live, and fast.

If I'm going to live on my own, I have to do it right.

I spot an open door in the back and slip through, entering some kind of storage room.

I figure I can hide out here for the night without being noticed. Luckily, it's Los Angeles, so weather isn't a concern of mine.

Spotting an old mattress flung across the floor, I decide to sleep there.

Sleeping on some dirty mattress in a hotel storage center is gross, I know. At the lab, at least everything was clean (although it wasn't a welcoming, homey clean, it was a sterile, cold, uninviting clean). This warehouse is the polar opposite of that place.

Okay, so it's not ideal. But it's just for one night. Then, I'll start looking for a job. Thanks to Dr. Stevens, I have something nice to wear to an interview.

I'll have to do some serious lying, which I'm not happy about.

But it's worth it to just be out here, away from people watching me, testing me, observing me all the time.

As I close my eyes, exhausted from the day, my last thoughts are, _free at last..._


	9. The Morning After

**A/N: Special shoutout to my homegirl TheCatWithTheHat for helping me with my plot (: Her writing is AMAZING and she's sooo nice so go check her out!**

**PS: TCWTH, are we Skyping or what mofoooo? (; And I'm glad I've converted you to the wonderful world of Tom Wolfe (: **

**Anyway. Let's get on with the happy and fun life of Subject 5308, er, Phoebe Benson, shall we?**

* * *

That night, I sleep fitfully on the lumpy, old mattress. I have a dream, a horrible dream about being back _there. _

_"It's getting away!" one of them says, running after me with a needle. __"Someone catch it!" _

_I'm running, running down a long, endless hallway. _

_I reach the end. There's nowhere else to go but back the other way._

_They all close in on me as I try to get away. _

_"Help!" I scream, but nobody hears me. "Help me!" _

"Hey!" someone's yelling at me.

I wake up to find a guy standing over me.

He has short blonde hair and blue eyes. Like me.

Although I'm sure the two of us are quite different.

"Who are you?" he asks, looking at me with both curiosity and confusion. "You were screaming for help."

I blush. I'm not worried about getting caught or anything like that. I'm just ashamed to have made myself look stupid in front of yet another guy.

_Well, how can you not look stupid? You're a runaway lab rat sleeping on a dirty mattress in a storage room, _I think self-consciously.

I look down, not wanting to talk to him.

"Look, what are you doing here?" he asks.

He doesn't sound angry, though. He only sounds concerned.

"What's your name?"

Finally, I look up. "Phoebe," I say quietly. "Phoebe Benson."

"Well, Phoebe Benson, any reason you're sleeping here?" he asks.

I have to think up a story, and fast.

"I had to get away," I tell him, which isn't a lie at all.

"From what? I mean, what's so bad that you ended up here?"

"My dad beat me," I lie, telling him something I saw on TV. "And my mom's an alcoholic. I didn't know where else to go. I just couldn't stay there anymore."

"Why don't we call the police?" he suggests, offering me a hand to help me up.

"NO!" I practically scream.

I know the cops are supposed to be good people. But legally, I'm listed as the Director's daughter, for something called social security. That's the last thing I need, to be returned to _them. _

"I can't risk going back," I tell him anxiously.

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "Well, sorry, but you can't stay here. I mean, _I _don't care, but my mom's the manager, and if she found out there's some random girl sleeping in the storage room..."

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "I just...I just don't know..."

"Hey. It's okay," he says softly. "We'll get you some help."

I don't want help. Do I? I'm not sure what I want other than a job and a place to live.

"I'm new at this whole living-on-my-own thing," I admit. "Could you maybe help me get my feet on the ground? Or off the ground? Whatever the expression is."

_Stop talking, Phoebe, _I order myself. _Just shut up before you screw everything up. _

"Maybe you should meet my mom. She'll help you out," he says. "My name's Dan, by the way. Dan Weiss."

"Will she hurt me?" I ask.

Again, he looks taken aback. "No way," Dan says. "She's pretty chill. Why would you ask something like that?"

"I don't know," I say again.

"Well, whatever happened to you's over. You're fine now. You don't need to sleep in the storage room. Come on."

I'm nervous about going with him. What if he works for _them? _What if they're all out to get me? What if...

Well, I have to try, at least. I pick up my bag and follow him into the main area, finger-combing my hair.

We enter the main area of the hotel. It's beautiful, more than I could have imagined.

I've only read about hotels in books, never been to one in person. But here I am, in a real live hotel.

I can't believe it. This is truly a dream come true.

"Mom?" Dan calls to someone behind the front desk. Out walks a blonde woman with a nametag that says "LAURA WEISS, Manager."

"How's it going?" she asks. "Who's your friend?"

"Uh, this is Phoebe. Phoebe Benson," Dan says, introducing me. "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure."

The two step behind the counter. I can see their lips moving, but I can't hear them.

Are they talking about me? About what to do with me?

Finally, they return.

"I'm so sorry," Laura Weiss says, looking at me with sad eyes. "That's terrible that that had to happen to you. Do you have any relatives you could call, or...?"

"No," I tell her. "I'm sorry. I don't."

"Maybe we can go to the police."

"Please, don't call them," I insist. "I really don't want to go back. I can't go back."

She sighs and looks from me to Dan then back to me.

"I know this must be hard for you," she says. "I've known people in similar situations. So here's the deal. We've got a place right near here with a spare room. Assuming you're willing to help out, of course, you can stay with us until we figure out a long-term plan."

I want to hug her and Dan.

"Thank you," I say. "I can't believe it. Thank you so much."

"We're happy to help," Dan says.

"Would I also be able to get a job?"

Laura looks me up and down. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen," I lie. What they don't know won't hurt them.

"Okay," she says. "We can start you out working in the cafe. It's minimum wage, but I think you'll enjoy it."

"I'll take anything," I say. Anything not involving tests, or scientists, or needles of any kind.

"Awesome," Laura tells me. "Welcome aboard. And if you need anything, anything at all, I'm happy to help."

I smile.

This is great.

It's almost too good to be true.

Let's just hope it isn't.


	10. New Life

It's been three weeks, more or less, since I've been living with the Weiss family and working at their hotel.

I love it, everything about my life here. I have true freedom.

Yeah, Mr. Weiss was a little taken aback when he learned I was going to be staying with them. But he's gotten used to me. The whole family has.

Including Dan. Call me crazy, but I think I might like him. He _did _save me that day, after all. And he's been so sweet and helpful.

He's just like the guys I read about in books. He actually cares about me. I trust him; I know he would never hurt me.

He helped me adjust to his high school, where he, a senior, attends, and I was enrolled as a sophomore.

It's a little boring, to be honest. Dan Weiss is smart, don't get me wrong, but it's frustrating to have to retake classes I took years ago. Stuff I already know.

I have to pretend to get things wrong, so people can't tell anything is up. It's sad that I have to _try _to fail quizzes. Without trying at all, I'd make straight A+'s across the board.

Then again, it's not like I can tell him I'm actually barely fourteen and already a high school graduate. I'm pretty sure they'd find that a little...strange.

Anyway, I like school. I like being able to take classes without having scientists looking over my shoulder taking notes and saying how "fascinating" I am.

For the first time in my life, I'm actually happy. I can do whatever I want when I want, I'm making some money, and I've even managed to make (and keep) a few friends.

Not too many, of course. I'm still learning how to actually interact with other people.

It's harder than I thought. Being raised in a lab doesn't amount to good social skills.

But I met some cool people. A girl named Kristen, who loves puppies and shopping, a boy named Chris who wants to be a pilot, and another girl named Brittany, who thinks some singer named Justin Bieber is "mad hot."

And, of course, Dan.

After work today, we decided to walk to the beach, considering it's right down the road.

I've never walked that far before, except when I ran away. By the time we get there, I'm tired already.

"You okay?" Dan asked. "Want some water?"

"Sure," I tell him. "Thanks."

"You never got out much before, huh?"

"You could say that," I tell him as we walk to Beachside Cones for some food and drink.

"That sucks," he says. "I love running. I don't know what I'd do without it."

"I can't run to save my life," I joke.

That's the sad truth. If anyone chased after me, I wouldn't stand a chance. I know that from years of trying to get away from scientists.

"Well, maybe we should go for a jog sometime. It's easy once you get started."

"That sounds nice," I say.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a group of people in white coats walking around.

_Shit. Fuck. Damn. Every other swear word in the book. _

"I'll be right back," I tell him, quickly running towards the stand and ducking behind the counter.

_Please, don't find me. I can't go back there..._

"Dr. Stevens, are you sure you don't know where she could have gone?" a male voice asks.

Dr. Wilkinson.

"I'm sure," she says. Her voice sounds anxious. "I hope she's okay."

"Never mind that," Dr. Wilkinson snaps. "We just need to find her and take her back. The Director's getting real pissed."

"Hey!" someone else shouts. It sounds like Dr. Zarelli. "Look what I found!"

I watch as she holds up a strip of paper.

It's my former ID bracelet.

I'm really screwed now.

"She must be around here somewhere, then," Dr. Wilkinson says, scratching his head.

"How do you know? She probably ditched the bracelet and ran," Dr. Zarelli insists.

"It's such a shame, you know? We give her every opportunity we can," Dr. Batchelder says. "These subjects are just so ungrateful. Like my daughter."

"Maybe they're not happy, being locked up and tested on all the time," Dr. Stevens says. "Did you ever think of that?"

_One point for Dr. Stevens. _

"If there was another way, that would be great. But the world's not perfect," Dr. Batchelder reminds her.

"You always say that." Dr. Stevens shakes her head. "They're people, not mice."

"We have to think like her," Dr. Zarelli insists. "We've been studying her for years. We know her pretty well. If you were her, what would be the first thing you'd do?"

"I don't know," Dr. Wilkinson says. "She's really not equipped to live out here."

_Ha! Good one, John Wilkinson. I've survived on my own for three weeks and counting. I have a place to live, I have a job, I go to school, I even have friends. Nice try, though. _

"Well, we'l have to come back, then," one of them says. "Maybe we can bring the dogs. They'd pick up her scent. She _did _leave all of her stuff behind."

"Good idea," Dr. Zarelli agrees.

They all walk out of my line of vision, except for Dr. Stevens, who stands there holding my ID bracelet, staring at it. "I'm sorry," I hear her say to nobody. "I'm sorry it came to this."

I feel a twinge of sadness. I almost feel bad for her.

But not bad enough to go through that again.

Once they're gone, I step out from behind the counter and inconspicuously walk back to our table.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey, yourself." Dan smiles. "You know, I just saw the weirdest thing."

My heart pounds. "What?"

"A bunch of people-doctors or scientists, I guess-looking for something. Or someone."

"Really?" I ask, trying to keep my face blank. "Why?"

"I don't know. They were talking about studying someone and how they couldn't live out here. I don't really know." He wrinkles his brow. "Weird shit, right?"

"Yeah. Bizarre. Why would they say that?"

"In school, we learned that scientists used to do experiments on people. Before it was illegal and all that," he continues. "Imagine if they were doing that now?"

"Here in LA? Nah," I quickly say. "I mean, like you said, it's illegal and all."

"You'd hope people would try and stop stuff like that." He shakes his head. "Anyway, the whole scene seemed kind of creepy."

"Sounds creepy," I agree, taking a drink of water. I want to change the subject.

"Want to play some Frisbee?" I suggest.

Frisbee is a game I've heard about, but never had the chance to play.

"I hope you're up for a challenge," Dan says with a wink.

"It's on, man," I say, standing up.

A good game is the perfect way to reinvent myself as someone fun, into sports, normal.

And it's the perfect distraction from worrying about _them. _


	11. School, The Real Kind

I don't think I mentioned just how much I love school.

Even though the classes are easy as anything, some of the people can be annoying, and it's hard to escape the smell of the boy's locker room after their lacrosse practice (another sport that looks fun!), I can't get enough.

At the lab, everything was controlled, clean, perfect. Here, it's all perfectly imperfect. It's real life in a nutshell, just the way it should be.

I'm headed to my second class, AP Biology with Mr. Woods.

It's amazing how much I grew to like science once I realized there was more to it than being poked with needles all day. It's actually pretty interesting, with all the cells and stuff.

"How'd you do on the last test?" Kristen asks me.

I roll my eyes. "Ugh. I bombed it," I lie, even though I probably aced it with no problem.

Like I said, I have to maintain normal grades, meaning even I have to do poorly once in a while. Because no regular high school sophomore is intelligent enough to do perfectly on _everything. _

At least I'm able to be in advanced classes. That makes it _slightly _less boring. Next year, I'll be able to do a dual-enrollment program with the local community college, which should be fun.

But I still love it. I'm thankful just to be here, somewhere safe and enjoyable.

"Me too," Kristen agrees. "It was so hard."

"Definitely," I say as we enter the classroom.

In bio, I sit through an hour-long lecture about DNA. Great, let me tell you about my experience with _that. _

"Someday, scientists hope to be able to manipulate specific genes to express more desirable traits," Mr. Woods says. He then chuckles. "Let's just hope it doesn't go too far."

I look down at my desk, hoping I'm not blushing.

It definitely _has _gone too far already. I'm a prime example of that.

Just when I think it can't get any worse, the bell rings. Thank God.

"What do you think about that?" Kristen asks as we leave.

"About what?"

"The whole genetic engineering thing." She shrugs. "I mean, I guess it could be cool. But weird at the same time."

"Yeah, so weird," I say. "Anyway, what's your next class?"

"History." Kristen sticks her tongue out. "Fun times."

"I thought you hated history." Why is she saying it's fun?

"I was being sarcastic," she says, giving me a weird glance.

"Right. Sorry. I was kidding," I say with a nervous laugh.

Sometimes, it's hard for me to pick up on the subtler parts of communication.

"I have a study hall," I tell her. "What does that mean?"

Another weird glance. "You didn't have study hall at your old school?"

"I-uh, homeschooled, remember?"

"Right," she says. "But you've never heard of...whatever. It's a free period."

I still look confused.

"You don't have a class," Kristen clarifies. "So you can go to the library and do homework."

"Sounds good," I say.

Since I did all my homework in lit class, when the teacher was droning on about _Angela's Ashes, _a book I read ages ago, I decide to go for a walk. There's a Starbucks right near my school, which I know from TV is a popular coffee shop.

I've never been there before, but it looks like fun. It seems like cool people hang out there, and I want to be one of them. Plus Mrs. Weiss gave me some money, so I can get a cup of coffee. Or maybe something else.

For once, I can choose what I want to drink.

I start heading for the front door when I am stopped by an authoritative-looking woman.

I back up immediately. She reminds me of the scientists that used to run tests on me.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" she demands.

"I'm just going for a walk," I say.

"Not off school grounds, you're not," she snaps. "Don't think I can't point out the troublemakers around here."

Troublemakers? Me? I didn't do anything...

"What did I do?" I ask.

"You're skipping class."

"I have study hall," I protest.

"Then you should be in the library, doing your work."

I'm silent. I don't know what to say.

It's like I'm back _there _again, with everyone telling me where I can go and what I can do. I thought the real world was supposed to be different.

"Okay," I say, feeling stupid. I turn around to walk away.

"Wait a second," she calls out. "Phoebe Benson, right?"

I nod.

"You're the girl staying with the Weiss family."

Again, I nod. "Yeah."

"We love the Weiss's. They're so helpful to us," the woman continues. "Anyway, welcome to Santa Monica High."

"Thanks," I say, slightly confused. "I guess I'll, uh, get to work."

After school, it's off to the hotel where I work as a waitress.

Though my social skills are hardly up to par, I've seen and read about waitressing. It always sounded like fun, something cool and hip and adventurous. Just like the kind of person I want to be.

Anyway, I've read about the job enough to have a general idea of what to expect. I take people's orders, bring them to the kitchen and bring them their food. All while smiling and asking them how they're doing.

Easy enough.

"We've got a big crowd today!" Jerry, my manager, shouts. "I know you're new, so I'll pair you up with Becky for today. She'll show you the ropes."

"Okay," I say, eyeing the crowd. People are sitting at almost every table, enjoying their food.

Across the cafe, I spot a familiar face. It's Dr. Stevens, eating alone with a book in her hand.

_Dealing with the Loss of a Child _is the title.

I wonder who she's lost recently. I hope her kids are okay.

_Wait a second! _I think. I can't work here if she's here. She's nice, sure, but she's still one of _them. _

She'll bring me back there. Back to a place I can never return to.

I suddenly clutch my stomach. "Jerry, I'm not feeling so well all of a sudden," I tell him as dramatically as I can.

"You look kind of pale," he says, eyeing me. "You wanna take the afternoon off?"

"I want to help, but..."

"No. Go rest," he orders me. He pats me on the back. "Feel better, Phoebe!"

"Thanks," I say, practically running out of the cafe before anyone can spot me.

_Why do they keep bothering me? _I think. _They've probably got dozens of other test subjects. Why me? Why am I their prime target? _

All I want is to be normal. That's all.

"Hey," Dan says, waving to me from the front desk. I walk over to him.

"How's it going?" I ask.

"Great." He smiles. "Listen, I was thinking, tonight, do you want to see a movie?"

Am I getting asked out? On a _date?_

I can't believe it.

"Sure," I say. "Awesome! What do you want to see."

"Well," he says, smiling again, "the new _Great Gatsby_ movie's out. Didn't you tell me that's one of your favorite books?"

"Let's see it," I quickly say. "I love _The Great Gatsby._"

This is unbelievable.

It's something straight out of one of my books. I'm actually meeting a guy who cares about me and might even like me too.

Forget my "enhancements," forget seeing Dr. Stevens, and forget the scientists chasing after me.

I'm going on a date. I _am _a normal girl.


	12. The Kiss and The Nightmare

**A/N: Thank you to Maia, aka TheCatWithTheHat, for helping me with the kiss scene. As you guys know, I mostly write crime/political dramas. And a kiss scene and a courtroom scene are two completely different things. **

**You should all R&R her stories! They're amazing! (: **

**Also, I am now officially a beta reader! So if you need help with grammar, spelling, plot development, ect, hit me up! (: **

**Peace out. **

* * *

After the movies, Dan and I began our walk back to the Weiss residence.

The movie was better than expected. I had been to the movies once or twice before with Dr. Stevens, but it was nothing like this. Being there, with someone I felt safe and comfortable with, is like nothing I've experienced.

"Hey, Phoebe," Dan said, a joking smile on his face. "You've got some popcorn in your teeth."

"No way!" I insist. "I checked before we left. You're a liar."

He nudges me playfully. "Just kidding. Relax."

What happens next is also like nothing I've experienced.

He wraps his arm around my waist, allowing me to feel the heat radiating off of his body and onto mine. He pulls me close and touches his lips to mine.

Slowly closing my eyes, I smell his scent-buttery popcorn and cologne.

This is incredible.

I find myself wondering if I'm dreaming, or if this is really happening.

Once it's done, we pull away from each other.

"I can't believe it," I say quietly. "I mean...I've never..."

He puts his arm around my shoulder. "Was that alright?"

In all my life, I've never had anyone ask me if anything was alright.

"It was great," I tell him.

He kisses me again, a small one this time.

I feel dizzy. And not from some random drug.

"Thanks," I say. "For everything."

All of a sudden, I want to tell him the truth. I want to tell him who I really am, and what my life has been.

But I quickly remember, I can't. You never know who could be listening. And I don't want to scare him away.

I finally have someone in my life who cares about me and who I care about, after all.

We return to the house and walk back inside. The place is completely silent and dark, except for us.

"Night," he tells me, as he heads up the stairs and I walk down the hallway into the guest bedroom.

I close my eyes as soon as my head hits the pillow, with a big smile on my face.

But that night, things are much less peaceful.

I have another dream. A dream of _them. _

_I'm strapped to a table in the middle of a white room. All of them all stand around me, holding knives and needles in their white coats. _

_"Make sure it stays quiet," one of them says with a sneer. "If this goes wrong, she could die."  
_

_"Who cares?" another one says. "We could have her replaced in two seconds." _

_"That's true," he says. "Alright. Let's begin." _

_He takes the scalpel he's holding and slices into me. I can see blood, my blood, everywhere. _

_Make it stop, __I think. Why won't they just stop already?_

_They're hurting me, and they're not stopping. In fact, they're laughing. At me. _

_"This'll teach it to fight back," said another one. _

_Dr. Amy Leighton. _

_"You're right," the man cutting into me says with a nod. "It needs to learn its place." _

_Then, I'm falling off of a cliff, into a red ocean. _

_I don't know what's going on. _

_I'm not going to make it, is what I'm thinking as the ocean grows nearer and nearer. What's going on...why is this happening?_

_I thought I was safe...I thought I would be alright..._

_Suddenly, I hear voices. _

_"Phoebe!" someone screams. "PHOEBE! Wake up!" _

And I do, and I'm lying in my bed, gasping for breath and soaked in sweat.

"Phoebe! Are you okay?" It's Mrs. Weiss.

"What's happening?" I ask, looking around the room in shock. Mr. and Mrs. Weiss, Dan and Dan's little sister, Nicole, are all standing around me, not sure what to think.

"You were having a bad dream," Mr. Weiss tells me. "Your screaming woke us all up. Is everything okay?"

"S-sorry," I tell him.

I didn't mean to wake them all up.

"It's perfectly alright," Mrs. Weiss assures me. "You're fine."

"Was the dream about...your father?" Dan asks.

Right. All Dan thinks is that my father hit me.

I nod. "It was," I lie.

Mrs. Weiss puts an arm around my shoulder. "You're safe. You're going to be alright. Nothing bad's going to happen to you here."

I so badly want to believe that. I wish I could know for sure if it was true.

"Let's get you some coffee," Mr. Weiss suggests. "Coffee, and a bagel. That always does it for me."

"Thank you," I say quietly.

"You don't have to go to school today, if you're not feeling up to it," Mrs. Weiss tells me.

I think. It's been about a month. If _they're _still looking for me, I stand a better chance at school surrounded by people instead of home alone in a place I don't know the geography of.

"I'll go," I tell them.

"Okay." Mrs. Weiss smiles sympathetically. "If you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to give us a ring. No matter what time it is, we're here for you."

Mr. Weiss nods in agreement, and the Weiss parents and Nicole leave the room, leaving me alone with Dan.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Dan asks.

I nod. "Yeah. Everyone has bad dreams, right?"

He nods reluctantly and pauses.

Then, he says, "You know, sometimes we all have things that are easier to keep inside of us. If you ever have anything you wanted to tell me, I'm all ears."

"What?" I ask.

I've heard that expression before, but I can't quite place it. Being all ears sounds pretty silly.

"I'm here for you," he clarifies. "I...care about you."

"Thanks," I tell him. I stand up.

"I'd better get ready," I say with a nervous smile.

He steps out of my way.

"Don't forget it. I really do care."


	13. Turning Point

**A/N: Yo, yo, yo, readers. It's your girl Lil J back up in hurrrrr. My internet wasn't working so sorry for the lack of updates. ANYWAY, I've been mad busy lately. A lot has gone on. I got my yearbook and senior schedule today and I get my senior shirt/free food on Friday...shit's getting real! I can't believe some of my best friends are graduating this year and I'm graduating next year ): But anyway, I'm going to save the sappy stuff for June 16th when they're gone for real. Also, I'm single for the summer! Lol, he and I just decided to take a break because we'll both be away so if we want to hang out with other people we don't feel guilty. No drama, we're still friends, no problem. It's the perfect breakup (; Also, I have finals next week booooo ): But then it's summer so that means parties, friends, campfires in my backyard, and for you guys, UPDATES GALORE! :D **

**So on with the story! **

* * *

It's been six months exactly since I've been at the Weiss's.

Six months since I left that place, a place I will never speak of and will never return to again.

Six months since I ceased to be known as Subject 5308 and began my new life as Phoebe Benson.

A lot has changed for me in the past six months.

1) I don't have nightmares nearly as much. Only once a week, maybe.

2) As I hoped, I've gotten in shape and gained a bit of healthy weight. I'm even on the school's track team.

3) Dan and I are "officially" together. We hold hands in the hallway, go out together, and even kiss. This will sound like something out of one of my books, but he makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I kind of like it.

4) I have many more friends. I'm still getting used to having a social life, but I'm a lot less inept than I was when I first got away from _them. _Dan and I even hosted a party once.

And a lot has stayed the same.

1) School is still horrendously boring. I slide through with all A's, more or less, deciding which assignments to do well on and which to do poorly on depending on how my classmates do.

2) I still feel slightly out of place. Also, I feel edgy, like _they're _going to come and find me.

I know it's been a long time. They've probably forgotten all about me. They probably have a new guinea pig to experiment on; maybe they even created someone smarter than me. I wish they would just stop, but I'm glad it's not me.

3) I still love reading. My favorite book as of now (besides _The Catcher in the Rye) _is _Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. _The movie made me cry, but Dan was there to give me a hug and make me feel safe.

and

4) I still have many secrets. Mrs. Weiss insisted I see a counselor, which I did, telling her loads of made-up stories about being locked in a basement and whipped with a belt. It wasn't that hard. Like I said, I've read about a lot of things, and I feel the same as if someone _had _done those things to me.

I know eventually I'll have to tell someone the truth. But not now, not any time soon, in fact.

Maybe a year from now. Maybe two. Maybe even three.

I don't want to tell anyone, though. I have a good life here. I don't want them to know who I used to be.

That girl isn't me. The scared, lonely little girl locked in a lab all her life, that's not who I am.

I'm a dreamer, a learner, a lover, a runner. I'm Phoebe Benson.

And at this moment, I'm returning home from a walk on the beach with Dan.

"I love how your hair looks in the sun," he tells me, brushing a golden lock off of my face.

"Thanks," I say, with a laugh. "I like...your face."

I'm still a little awkward, remember?

He laughs too, throwing his head back in a way I love.

"Your face is pretty cute too." He pretends to pinch my cheeks as we walk down the street.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man that looks slightly familiar. As he approaches us, I begin to realize who it is.

The dreaded Dr. Wilkinson.

"Dan," I whisper to him. "We have to go. Hide somewhere."

"What?" he asks. "Are we playing Manhunt?"

I subtly point to Dr. Wilkinson. "No. He's someone I used to know, and he's real bad news," I explain.

"Shit," he swears under his breath. "Is he your..."

"Used to be." I look around, accidentally making eye contact.

_Damn it!_

He walks faster, an evil glint in his eye.

"He looks like trouble. Let's go."

Dan grabs my arm protectively, running with me. We duck behind a gas station convenience store.

After a few minutes of holding our collective breath, he says, "I'll go check if the coast is clear."

He peers out into the area.

"I think the coast is clear."

We walk home without an incident.

"I'm tired," I tell him once we get back. "I think I'll go to bed."

"It's only seven," he points out.

"Yeah, but I'm beat."

Lying in bed, pretending to sleep, I can hear Dan talking to his parents.

"We should really call the police," Mrs. Weiss says. "The poor thing. I know she wants to keep it a secret, but she's really not safe like this."

"You know, I think it's interesting that she's so insistent on not calling the cops," Mr. Weiss says. "I mean, look, Laura, we really don't know who she is, other than her name and age. We don't know where she's from, what really happened to her..."

"Are you calling her a liar?" Dan demands. "She's not a liar. She's just really scared."

"All the more reason to go to the police," Mrs. Weiss insists. "She shouldn't have to feel hunted down."

"Have you talked to her counselor? What did she have to say?"

"She said it was a textbook case of physical abuse. But there's just something about her I can't place," Mrs. Weiss says.

"You think so too?" Mr. Weiss asks. "It's the strangest thing. She just seems so...different."

My face reddens, part in embarrassment, part in anger. _Different. _That's me. I can never be normal.

"We'll look into this tomorrow," Mrs. Weiss insists. "Don't worry, Dave, we'll get to the bottom of this."

My heart begins to beat faster. I can't let them get to the bottom of this. What if they don't accept me? What will they think? What will the police think? I can't let this get out.

It suddenly hits me. I'm not safe here anymore. I have to leave.

I grab my backpack and empty it of all my books, except for _The Catcher in the Rye. _In the books' place, I put several sets of clothes and some money I've earned working here.

I figure if I get a job somewhere else, I can save up some money and get a bus or train ticket out of here. I want to go somewhere else. New York. Chicago. San Francisco. Anywhere I can live a normal life.

Among my things, I spot a note Dan wrote to me in his Civics class one day.

_Phoebe, _

_You are a shining star. You're beautiful, and you light up my world every day. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. _

_-Dan_

Tears suddenly fill my eyes. I will miss him so much.

Maybe, once I'm safely out of the scientists' reach, I can contact him again. We could run away together. Build a life together.

But for now, I have to leave on my own. So I open the window of my room, take out the screen, and, carrying my bag, jump out and run out into the night, the tears in my eyes blurring my vision.

It's time, once again, to move on.


	14. Taken Again

I'm alone, again.

In a different way than before.

I'm alone on the streets.

It's been three weeks, and my new home is the alleyway in between a pizza place and a clothing store.

In just three weeks, I've done some bad things. Things I've only read about before, things I never thought I would do.

I've also discovered a new _them. __They _are the scientists from the lab, but _they _are also the men of the streets.

The men I've had sex with just to survive.

It's not my fault. I know I'm better than this. I'm not a slut, or a whore, or a dirty bitch, or any of the other disgusting things _they_ call me.

And I'm also not a test subject, or an it, or "the blonde one," or Subject 5308.

I know who I am, that's the most important thing I've learned living with the Weiss's. I'm a girl (granted, a genetically modified one), a human being on her way to success.

At least that's who I was, until I had to leave, a decision I'm kicking myself for.

I have to remind myself why I left.

_They were going to discover who you actually were. _

I have to tell myself why that couldn't happen.

_You might get sent back. _

But I can't talk myself into _this, _an act so awful and vile, I could never picture doing again. But hunger is an interesting thing. I've never been hungry before. Even at the lab, they would give me some amount of food. I ate very well with the Weiss's. But my money was used up in my first two days out here. I try, I really do. I tried to get another job, but without a resume or any form of identification, it's hard to get anything legitimate.

Now, I've been on the streets for so long without taking proper care of myself, I wouldn't even try. They'd just direct me to the nearest homeless shelter or worse-call the police.

Some of the men are nicer, offer me some food or to get me a motel room. Usually they're not. A five-minute session, and it's over. It hurt at first, but not anymore. I don't think I'll feel anything anymore. No pain or pleasure.

Some of _them _use drugs. Not the kind I had to take at the lab, although some men use a needle. Most of the time, it's marijuana, smoked in a rolled cigarette.

I've had some before, I'll admit. What difference does it make? I'm in the same position regardless.

So I sell myself to survive. I'm back to being less than a person. An object to be used.

Curling up against the brick wall of the alley, I feel the falling raindrops mixing with my tears.

The rain feels nice. Hey, it's a free shower, something I've been denied out here on the streets. I know once the rain stops, sitting here in wet clothes won't be too much fun, but it's better than nothing.

I hear footsteps. Footsteps? Who could be out looking for action this early in the evening, or in this kind of weather?

"Hey, there," someone says softly.

It's a male voice. I immediately tense up. Most of the people out here are not to be trusted.

I make my voice hard. "What do you want?"

He puts his hands up, approaching me carefully as if I'm a wild animal. "Relax, relax," he says in the same soothing voice. "I just want to know what a girl as pretty as you is doing out here on the streets."

_A girl as pretty as me. _It's another potential customer.

I stand up, and place my hands on my hips. "So you want to fuck, or what?" I ask. "A hundred bucks."

Usually I charge fifty. But he's already wasting my time, and I'm in the mood for some real food that isn't Burger King.

He shakes his head. "No. A girl like you doesn't deserve to sell herself like this," he tells me. "Can I buy you some lunch?"

He gives me a little bit of the creeps, all smooth like that. I learned pretty quickly out here that the smoothest guys are often the ones you need to watch out for the most.

But I am hungry. My stomach wins over common sense.

"Let's go to Angelino's." It's the name of the Italian place I went to on my fourteenth birthday with Dr. Stevens (an event which, though it was only a little over half a year ago, feels like forever ago). I'm in the mood for something rich and carb-heavy.

"A girl that's pretty and has good taste in food. I like it." He and I walk out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk.

He opens his umbrella for me as we walk towards the restaurant. Once there, we sit down at a table with a view of the beach.

I order spaghetti Carbonara with a Caesar salad; he gets baked ziti.

"I love this place," I tell him after we eat and are standing outside on the patio, near his car. "Me and my...mother went here for my birthday."

He looks up at me. "Speaking of birthdays, how old _are _you? You seem awfully young working on the street. Although any age is too young, in my opinion."

"Eighteen," I lie. I don't want him trying to "help me out" in any way, shape, or form.

"I don't believe you," he says calmly. "You don't look eighteen."

"Well, it's none of your business how old I am," I snap, moving away. He snakes his arm around me.

"I think it is. Can't you see I'm trying to help you out?"

"I don't need help," I say.

"I think you do."

"Well, I don't!" I shout, trying to push him away.

He holds on to me while reaching in his back pocket for something.

"Let go of me, you fucking creep!" I shout as loudly as I can. But nobody's around. Unfortunately for me, going to a beachside restaurant on a rainy day isn't a popular idea.

"I said, let go!"

He takes out what he's looking for. A syringe.

_Shit. _

"Get the hell away from me!" I scream even louder. "Help! Somebody!"

He shoves the needle into my arm. I go dizzy immediately, my body falling limp. He grabs me and throws me over his shoulder before shoving me into the backseat of his car.

I hear him say something into a walkie-talkie or cell phone.

"This is Dr. Allan. I've got her."

Before my eyes shut completely, I hear this Dr. Allan guy say, "Welcome back, Subject 5308."


	15. The Return to the School

When I wake up, I'm in a tiny white room. I'm lying on a bed that's not as comfortable as the Weiss's guest bed, but a thousand times more comfortable than the streets of Los Angeles.

I sit up, my head pounding. _What happened? _I think.

Looking down at myself, I realize I'm dressed in a hospital gown. And I have a new ID bracelet on. One that says ITEX-SUBJ. 5308 in black letters on it.

I'm back _there. _With _them. _

_No, _I think. _This can't be happening. After all this...I can't be back here._

The door to the room opens. In walks a woman with long brown hair, a fancy-looking dress, and a lab coat.

I know who she is. She's the Director, the woman personally responsible for my miserable existence.

She smiles, showing two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. "Good morning, Subject 5308."

I glare at her, refusing to say a word. I meant what I said about not answering to that again.

_My "name" is not Subject 5308. My name is Phoebe Benson, _I think defiantly.

"I said, _good morning, Subject 5308._ Surely you remember how to respond to a greeting."

I decide it's in my advantage to be polite. "Good morning, Dr. Janssen," I say.

"There we go! Good job," she says condescendingly. "Now, I believe we have a lot of things to discuss, don't we?"

I shrug. "What's there to discuss? I'm back, aren't I?"

"We need to talk about why you left in the first place," the Director says. "Why, after all we've done for you, you throw it all away to live on the streets and sell yourself. We taught you better. I have to say, I'm awfully disappointed. You were our most successful experiment."

"I wouldn't have had to sell myself if you people weren't chasing me down!" I say angrily. "I had a good life for a while! I had an actual family and friends. I went to a real school and had a normal job."

"Can't you see you're above all that?" she asks. "You're not meant to be like everyone else. They're all ordinary, and you're special."

"So special I got to spend all my time locked here being tested on," I say. "I don't care about being 'special.' All I want is to live my life!"

"Clearly, the way you're speaking to me indicates you aren't ready to be out there."

"Like you were going to let me leave at all."

"There's the issue. You need to trust that we have your best interests at heart."

"I don't believe you," I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't."

"I'm sorry, but you don't have a say in the matter," the Director says, with a sad smile. "You just don't understand."

She reaches for the intercom next to the door and presses a button. "Dr. Leighton to room 19," she says.

Crap. I had forgotten about Dr. Leighton. Now I get to deal with whatever horrible mind-altering drugs she's come up with this time.

The door opens, and in she walks, in a tight black skirt and purple top. What is with these people, dressed like they're going to a fancy dinner?

Dr. Leighton looks different. Her hair, formerly red, is now strawberry blonde, and I can see a glittering engagement ring on her middle finger.

Well, you know what they say. Misery loves company.

"Amy, please take her into observation," the Director tells her. "We need to make sure just how much her time outside has changed her."

Dr. Leighton walks me down the hall and up a flight of stairs into another room, one similar to a cell at a mental hospital or something like that. In the room is only a bed and a cart, and all along one wall are a set of windows. I guess that's the "observation" part.

It's funny. I don't see Dr. Stevens anywhere. You'd think she'd be the first to want to see me.

First, she takes a whole bunch of measurements. Height, weight, blood pressure, all the usuals.

"Interesting," she mutters, making a note on her clipboard. "Much stronger muscles."

_It's funny how much more you can exercise when your life isn't confined to a small room, _I think. But I don't want to say it out loud, for fear of what she might do to me.

"I'm going to ask you a bunch of questions," she says. "It'll be in your best interest to be honest."

"Okay," I answer.

She goes down the list.

"What made you decide to run away?"

_You, _I think. _You and everyone else here. _

What I say is, "I needed a change."

"Do you understand the damage you caused? Poor Dr. Stevens was worried sick. You were her favorite experiment. She was so upset, she moved her whole family to Connecticut. We lost hundreds of thousands of dollars in R&D money, all because you wanted a change."

I look up at her with as disdainful an expression as possible. "Is this an interrogation or a guilt trip?"

I do feel bad, though. I didn't want Dr. Stevens to feel bad. I know she was looking out for me.

I feel even worse knowing she's not here. She's not here to protect me from _them._

Still, I'd rather not be someone's "favorite experiment."

She scribbles something down and mutters, "Attitude problem."

"Do you understand the damage _you _caused?" I demand. "I felt worthless while I was here. Outside, I had an actual life."

"Like the Director said, we're preparing you to be superior," Dr. Leighton says coldly. "Doesn't what you call an 'actual life' pale in comparison to knowing you're improving the human race for generations to come? We've managed to isolate the gene that-"

"And guess what? I don't give a _flying fuck." _That's another colorful phrase I've heard my friends say from time to time.

My friends. Will I ever get out of here? Will I ever see them again?

What about Dan? He has no idea what happened to me...

She smiles tightly, then presses a button on her walkie-talkie. In walks the Director, with Dr. Wilkinson and Dr. Newman.

"Have you made a conclusion?" the Director asks.

"Well, it's really up to you," Dr. Leighton says, speaking as if I'm not here, "but I feel that her time outside's really altered her personality."

"So you want to go ahead with procedure 55A," Dr. Newman clarifies.

_What on Earth is procedure 55A?_

Dr. Leighton looks at me before nodding. "I think it would be better for all of us if we had a blank slate to work with."

_A blank slate? Surely they don't mean..._

"I'm just worried if her intelligence will be altered," she says.

The Director shakes her head. "Don't be. We've done this before with other subjects. In all cases, they were only unable to recall personal events. All innate knowledge remained intact."

_Unable to recall personal events. _

They're going to erase my memory.

I don't want them to.

I don't want to forget about Dan and the Weiss's and my friends. I have some unpleasant memories, too, but I want to remember. I don't want to forget my life as Phoebe Benson, as short as it was.

"NO!" I shout suddenly, standing up.

They all stare at me for a full second.

"I said no," I say, putting my hands on my hips. "You took me away from my friends and boyfriend. But you're not taking my memories of them."

Dr. Wilkinson sighs. "I agree. Procedure 55A's a good choice. I'll page the OR."

"It's for your own good, 5308," the Director insists. "If you're unable to cooperate with us..."

"I'm not letting you do this to me," I say.

But it's too late. Dr. Leighton holds me down and injects me with something, something that makes me incredibly drowsy. Unable to fight back.

"Alright," I hear the Director say. "In a few hours, we'll have the old 5308 back."

_No, no, no..._


	16. The Procedure

I'm barely conscious, literally hanging on for dear life.

Beyond the fog that's my mind, I can hear what they're saying, know what they're doing.

I'm being lifted on to a stretcher and wheeled down the hallway.

"Watch her head," someone hisses.

"It doesn't matter. She won't remember anything soon anyway."

They laugh.

I'm panicking. I don't want this to happen, but I can't do anything to make it stop.

I'm so tired, all of my limbs feel like rubber, and I can barely move, let alone fight off a group of evil scientists.

This is like my dream, only worse. It's actually happening.

Dr. Leighton peers over me, her face appearing blurry. "I think she's still awake."

"Not for long," Dr. Wilkinson says.

I turn over, attempting to roll off of the stretcher. But a group of hands stops me.

"You're not going anywhere," Dr. Leighton snaps.

"I can't believe she actually managed to get out," someone says.

"Well, it's Dr. Stevens's fault. She trusted 5308 too much. And to think this whole project was her idea."

"I'm kind of glad she moved, actually," Dr. Wilkinson says. "Less trouble without her around."

I suddenly stop moving.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," one of _them _wonders.

_Yes! You shouldn't! _I think, praying that the Director listens to whoever it is.

"I mean, she managed to survive for almost a year on her own. Clearly she's proven herself to be successful. Maybe one of us could take her home to live in a more traditional setting. We'd still study her, of course, but she'd have less restrictions. I think it would improve her capabilities."

"That just won't work," the Director snaps. "You didn't see how she behaved as soon as she was returned here. She was completely unruly. God only knows what even more time out there would do to her. We have to go ahead, erase her memories and start over. That way, if we decide to release her eventually, she won't remember the time she already spent out there."

"Why would that make a difference?" the same person asks. "Wouldn't it be better if-"

"I don't think so," she says. "How are we going to accomplish anything with her causing problems for us all?"

"That's a good point."

_No! They're going to do it anyway._

I'm being lifted off of the stretcher and placed onto a table. They hook me up to a bunch of monitors, and stick an IV needle into my arm.

Well, this is it. The end of Phoebe Benson. The end of me. I guess I'll just be another one of their test subjects when I wake up, without any memories of happiness or joy or freedom.

I'd cry if I could do anything.

"Start the IV," one of them orders. I feel everything going black...

As soon as I'm out, I'm jolted awake by noise.

Shouting. Yelling. Sirens.

_Sirens...?_

"Police! Get your hands above your head! Now!" I hear. I slowly open my eyes.

All around me, there is commotion.

The group of scientists from before are now running everywhere, looking for an exit. Police officers fill the room, holding their guns and shouting at them.

"Get back here!" a cop shouts, grabbing Dr. Leighton. Dr. Leighton squeals as she's handcuffed.

One of the police officers is standing over me.

"Can you hear me?" he asks. "Are you alright?"

I slowly shake my head "no."

"It's okay. You're safe." He takes out the IV, and unhooks all the wires. "Can you sit up for me, please?"

"Don't you dare touch her!" someone shouts. It's the Director. "You don't have the right to lay a hand on her."

"Yeah? Well, neither do you, Doc!" another cop yells. "You're going to be going away for a long, long time. Put your hands behind your back."

The cop is helping me sit up, and I slowly come back to reality. I'm in an operating room, watching the people who once hurt me getting arrested.

"What happened?" he asks.

I can't help myself. I start crying.

He puts his arm around me protectively. It reminds me of Dan.

"Don't worry, hun. You're going to be alright," he assures me. "Did they hurt you?"

I nod, sniffling.

He looks me up and down, finally spotting my ID bracelet.

"Subject 5308 isn't much of a name, you know," he tells me softly. "Do you have anything you'd rather be called instead?"

I smile for the first time in ages.

"Phoebe," I tell him. "You can call me Phoebe."

"Pretty name."

"Thanks," I say.

Once the room clears out, he pulls out his radio. "Captain, we've got another vic. I'll bring her to the station."

He puts his radio away, turning to me again.

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen. Almost fifteen."

"Do you go to school?"

"I already graduated," I tell him, as the two of us stand up and walk towards the door.

He looks at me sharply. "You serious?"

"That's why I'm here," I inform him. "I'm really smart. I've always been this way. They made me this way. I've lived here all my life, except when I got away last year."

"What happened last year?"

"It was my birthday, and Dr. Stevens took me out to dinner," I explain. "When she wasn't around, I made a run for it. I stayed with this family for a while...went to a real school...until they took me back here. It was mostly Dr. Stevens's idea for me to be like this," I blurt.

"How can we get in touch with this...Dr. Stevens?"

"Don't arrest her!" I quickly insist. "She didn't do anything wrong."

"Phoebe, genetic experimentation is highly illegal. If she did this to you, she's going to have to pay."

"Please, don't," I beg. "She didn't hurt me. She only wanted to make things better. You can arrest everyone else. But not her. I won't testify or anything if you do."

As much as I want the rest of _them _to get in trouble, I don't think I could stand to see Dr. Stevens take the blame for what the rest of _them _did.

"Okay," he sighs. "How about this? If Dr. Stevens agrees to help us nail the rest of them, we won't press charges. How does that sound?"

I nod. "Thank you."

We walk towards the front door. The entire lab is a wreck. Papers everywhere, cops escorting people out the door.

The cop looks at me again. "We'll get you some real clothes once we get to the station, okay?"

I nod as we step out into the sun.

I suddenly realize something.

I have my memories. I'm safe. I'm free.

But for real this time.


	17. Rescued

Of all the people waiting for me at the police station, it's Dan Weiss standing there in the middle of the room.

"Phoebe!" he shouts running towards me.

He grabs me, enveloping me in a hug.

It feels nice. His strong arms feel nice. It's all so...nice.

I bury my face in his chest, eager for some protection.

"I'm so sorry," he says. "I had no idea...about any of it."

"I know," I tell him. "I didn't know who to trust."

He strokes my hair gently. "Are you okay? What did they do?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," I say. "But I'll tell you everything. Eventually."

He nods, letting me go.

"So when you said your father hit you..."

"I don't have a father," I admit. "Or a mother. I lived _there _my whole life. Until I found you."

He nods in understanding. "It must have been terrible for you."

"I'm fine now," I say, forcing a smile.

One of the cops comes up to me. "We have to ask you some questions," he tells me. "If you could come with us..."

I turn to Dan. "I'll see you later," I promise.

"I'll wait for you," he says back.

I enter a room designed to look like a living room, along with two cops.

"We figured you'd be more comfortable here than in one of the regular interview rooms," one of them-Detective Jeff Daniels-says.

"Any place is more comfortable than the place I left," I tell them with a short laugh.

"Good point."

I sit down on one of the couches.

"How'd you know where to look?" I ask.

"We've had our eye on Itex for a while," Detective Daniels explains. "Strange reports about them have been piling up for years now. When you were taken from the restaurant, a witness saw the license plate number of your kidnapper's car. We traced it to one of the scientists from Itex."

I nod, urging them to continue.

"In addition, after you left the Weiss's, they filed a missing persons report for you."

"Really?" I ask.

Detective Daniels nods. "They were very worried about you."

"I know." I feel even more guilty now. First Dr. Stevens, then the Weiss's.

I didn't know so many people actually cared about me.

"How'd you get involved in...the business?"

I look down. I really don't like talking about that time period.

"I don't know," I admit. "I just wanted to survive."

"It's okay," he assures me. "You won't get in trouble. Now, let's talk about the time you spent at Itex."

Another thing I don't like discussing. But I know I have to. It's time to be honest.

"First of all, is your name really Phoebe Benson?"

"No," I say simply. "I don't have a real name. I named myself. They only gave me a number. I was Subject 5308."

"Good God," Detective Daniels mutters. "That's terrible."

"It was how it was."

"Well, I like Phoebe better," he says. "Anyway, how long have you lived there?"

"My whole life," I continue. "I never lived anywhere else until I escaped. I don't know exactly what they did, but they enhanced my intelligence. That's why I graduated high school so early."

He raises an eyebrow, and I realize how far-fetched that sounds.

"I'm not lying," I quickly say. "I can speak at least four languages, I read college-level books when I was five, I know more math than most math majors, I got a perfect score on the SATs, and I could basically recite the history of the whole country."

"We believe you," Detective Daniels insists. "We know they've been fooling around with genetics for a long time. I'm sorry you had to be a part of that. What other tests did they do?"

"Really awful ones," I say with a shudder. "Most of them hurt a lot. All types of drugs, mental tests, surgeries..."

"What about Dr. Stevens?"

"What about her?"

"We know she was one of the head geneticists at Itex, and you mentioned it was her idea for you to be as smart as you are. Tell me more about her."

"She was...like the rest of them, and not, at the same time. Of course she wanted to study me. But I think she really cared about me," I tell the cop. "She made sure I was okay, took me out of there sometimes, basically raised me. She was like...like the mother I never had."

I'm actually sad, talking about her. Believe it or not, I miss her. She _was _like a mother to me, more than anyone else in my life.

Even more than Mrs. Weiss.

"Would you like to let her know you're alright?" the detective asks. "She's called here a couple times looking for you. She wants to know how you're doing."

"Sure," I say, not entirely sure what I'm getting myself into.

Will she be mad? Sad? Regretful?

But before I have time to consider all of those things, the cop hands me his cell phone, her number already dialed.

"Rebecca Stevens," a woman answers on the other end.

"Dr. Stevens?" I say. "It's me. Do you remember me?"

She pauses. "Oh my God. It really is you," she says. "I can't believe it. I've been so worried."

"I know," I say. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, no. You had to leave. I knew that wasn't a good place for either of us. That's why I quit."

"Are you going to get in trouble?"

"No. They offered me a deal. I'll give them all the information I have on them and I'll be fine," Dr. Stevens says. "Truth is, I'm sorry I did any of it in the first place. I was just..."

"Don't be sorry," I tell her. "Hey, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

"You have every right to be angry at me. I put you in this awful position."

"I'm not," I insist. "I'm really not. In fact...I miss you."

"I miss you too." I hear her sigh. "By the way, what should I call you? Anything besides 5308?"

"Phoebe's good," I say.

"I remember you loved Phoebe Caulfield from _The Catcher in the Rye."_

I smile. "That's where I got the name from."

"Well, Phoebe, we do have a lot to discuss," Dr. Stevens says. "A lot has changed in the past few months."

"Definitely," I agree. "I'm just glad to be safe again. Did you hear what they were going to do?"

"What?"

"They were going to erase my memory."

"No!" she shrieks. "Those bastards-I can't believe it."

"It's okay. The police saved me. My boyfriend saved me."

"Boyfriend? Oh, we surely have some things to talk about," she says, laughing. "I'd love to see you again. In fact, this might seem like a surprise, but if you need a place to live...my door's open. I live in Stamford, it's a small city in Connecticut. Just an hour outside of New York...my husband works in marketing and I have two wonderful daughters who'd love to meet you."

This is way too much to think about.

In one day, I went from being held prisoner to being at a police station hearing from my boyfriend and the only scientist who cared about me.

Living with Dr. Stevens sounds amazing. But I'm not sure I'm ready to leave Dan, leave California.

"I'll have to think about that," I tell her.

"Alright. Like I said, you can come anytime. But in the end, it's your choice."

Those words make me smile.

It's my choice, after all. My life is finally mine again.


	18. A New Era

After being interviewed by the police, I'm allowed to go out for lunch with Dan.

"How was it?" he asks.

I shrug. "They asked a lot of questions."

"Are you going to go to court?"

"Probably." I take a sip of my drink, a strawberry smoothie. "I talked to Dr. Stevens."

"Who's Dr. Stevens?" Dan asks. "Did she work at that...place?"

I nod. "But she's different. She actually cares." I take a pause. "She wants me to move in with her. She lives in Connecticut."

"Are you going to?"

I shrug. "I don't know. What about...what about us?"

"I told you I'd wait for you. I was thinking of going to college in New York anyway." He cups my face in his hands. "When I said I'd be there for you, I wasn't lying. I really want to be in your life, no matter what. And whatever choice you make, I'll be happy for you."

"It's either that or foster care," I tell him. "It's kind of hard when you don't have real parents, you know."

"If you don't want to live with that Dr. Stevens person, my parents would probably let you stay with them."

I shake my head. "I don't think so. I don't want to be a burden, especially if you're moving out in a few months."

"I understand," he says. "But what if she tries to experiment on you?"

"She wouldn't do that," I quickly tell him. "I trust her. She really wouldn't."

"Okay," he says with a nod. "Well, it's up to you. But whatever decision you make will be the right one."

We sit in silence for a few minutes.

"Why didn't you tell me what really happened?" Dan asks. "We could've gotten you some help."

"I was really worried," I tell him. "They were out looking for me, and I was worried they'd find me and take me back. Or the police would make me go back there."

"Why would you think that?" Dan asks.

"I don't know. I was just really scared and I wanted to stay safe."

"I'm sorry you had to go through all this," he says, shaking his head. "So...you're not really a sophomore in high school, are you?"

"Based on my age, I'd be finishing up my freshman year," I admit. "But technically, I graduated."

His eyes widened. "Shit. You serious?"

"That's why they kept me there. They made me really smart. Not that I'm bragging. I'm not exactly happy about it," I tell him. "And I didn't get a diploma or anything. But I finished all twelve years of school and then some."

"Damn," he says. "You know, you don't have to live with anyone. You could get-what's it called?-emancipated, and start college right now. Harvard would accept you in a heartbeat."

"It's like I told the police. I don't want a lot of people knowing about this," I insist. "I just want to live a normal life. Even if it means repeating high school. I want a family and friends and even to have a little fun. _Then _I want to go to college. But I'm not even fifteen yet. I'm not ready to be on my own."

"You're not even fifteen yet?" Dan asks. "But I'm-and we-"

"You're not mad, are you?" I ask.

"No, I'm not. I mean, age is just a number and all. And you've been through more than most almost-fifteen-year-olds. Anyway, like I said, I'll wait for you no matter what. You've become a big part of my life."

I nod. "Thanks. That means a lot." I look at the time on the clock on the wall. "We should head back to the precinct before they get too worried. I have a call to make."

Back at the police station, I immediately dial Dr. Stevens's number.

"Hello?" she asks. "Phoebe?"

"Hi, Dr. Stevens," I say. "About what you said earlier..."

"Yes?" she asks.

"I think I'd like to give Connecticut a try."

"That's great," she says. "I can't wait to see you. I'll be on the next flight out there. You're going to love it, and everyone can't wait to meet you-"

"Just one thing, though," I interrupt. "I don't want that many people knowing about me. I want to finish high school with most people my age and go to college when I'm eighteen. I don't want this to be some big thing."

She's silent. "Honey, you'll be so bored," she warns me. "You already finished high school years ago. And I've already told the people at my new job, the Center for Genetic Development, about you."

"I don't care about being bored. I'm serious about living a normal life. I did it for seven months, after all. And no offense, but I don't really appreciate you telling my life story to a bunch of people at some lab who probably want to study me. I know I'm your, quote-unquote, 'favorite experiment,' but that's not fine with me."

"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I just want the best for you. The people there aren't anything like the people at Itex-"

"I know. But that's my opinion," I tell her. "I don't want people to look at me funny anymore. This is my life, and I get to choose how I live it."

It feels good, standing up to Dr. Stevens like that. I know she's not trying to hurt me, but it's about time I tell it like it is.

"So, we have an agreement?" I ask.

"We do," she says. "Whatever you want is fine with me."

I smile. She really does care, I can tell.

"I'll be in California sometime early tomorrow, and then we can head back to Connecticut. But first, I'd like to meet that boyfriend of yours."

"He's the best," I tell her. "You'll love him."

"I bet."

I hear voices on the other end of the phone.

"Mommy! Come see what I drew!" a little girl shouts.

"Be right there, honey," Dr. Stevens promises. "I have to go. I can't wait to see you."

"Me either," I say. "Bye."

I hang up the phone.

This is the start of a brand new life. Again.


	19. Moving In

**A/N: Only a couple chapters left, people! I'm going to finish this story up and then focus on New York, I Love You (it's gonna be a long one!). Anyway, read on! Meow meow meow**~

**Oh and happy father's day!**

* * *

I stayed at the police station overnight, until Dr. Stevens arrived. And she did, first thing in the morning.

The first thing she did was run towards me, grabbing me in a big hug.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she says, finally letting me go. She looks me up and down. "Did you do something with your hair?"

"I cut it," I tell her. Actually, one of my friends from the short time I spent with the Weiss's did it, cutting it from its usual long length to just above my shoulders.

She nods. "I like it. You really look great."

"Thanks," I say. "So do you."

Dr. Stevens looks a little older, more worried. I didn't know the whole incident would have affected her that much, but I guess it did.

"Thank you," she says. Suddenly, she picks up my wrist. "You don't have your ID bracelet anymore."

"Nope," I say, grinning. "They gave me a new one when I got kidnapped again, but I cut it off once I got here."

"That's good," she says with a smile. "You're Phoebe now. Not 5308."

She looks around. "Where's your boyfriend?" she asks eagerly.

"He's in the bullpen," I tell Dr. Stevens. That's what the main area of the police station is called, the bullpen. I lead her to where Dan is sitting.

"Nice to meet you," Dan says politely, shaking her hand.

He seems a little suspicious of her.

"You too," Dr. Stevens says warmly. "I just wanted to say thank you so much."

"Not a problem," Dan says. "Phoebe's great. So, you're Dr. Stevens?"

"I am."

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly did you do to her?"

She laughs nervously. "I could tell you if I had a whiteboard, a genetics textbook and three hours," she jokes.

Dan smiles uncomfortably. I wait for the awkward moment to pass.

"Well, we should get going so we don't miss our plane," Dr. Stevens says.

I give Dan one last hug before I leave.

"Bye," I tell him. "I'll call you from Connecticut."

"Definitely," he says. "Love you."

If there ever was a time where I could use a cheesy phrase like "my heart swelled up," now would be it.

"Love you too," I say. "Stay in touch."

I then follow Dr. Stevens out the door and into a life I'm eager to live.

**Six Hours Later**

After flying into LaGuardia Airport in New York, Dr. Stevens and I drive up a highway towards her home in Connecticut.

"Why'd you decide to move here?" I ask.

"Well, I got a job offer," she says. "My husband also got a job offer. And I wanted to get as far away from that God-awful place as possible."

"I can understand that," I say. "I did too."

She smiles sadly. "What was it like, on your own?"

"I loved it at first," I tell her. "I had a great life living with the Weiss's. They let me stay there, I worked for Dan's mother and went to school. I even met some friends."

"That's great."

"But then, I started seeing people from that...God-awful place everywhere," I continue, quoting Dr. Stevens. "They were looking for me, tracking me down. Plus the Weiss's were getting suspicious of me. It's not like I could tell them that much about who I really was. So I freaked out and left. After that, things weren't so good. I did some really bad things."

I start tearing up thinking of the things I did on the street, things just to survive.

"Like what?" she asks, nervous.

"I would...sell myself," I say in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry. I know that's disgusting and terrible."

"It's not. I'm just sorry you had to do those things," she says. "I wish I could've done more for you while we were both there. I ignored what was really happening more than I should've, and that was very wrong of me. I really am sorry."

"It's okay," I assure her. "We can't change what happened, right?"

"No, we can't," she agrees.

"What are you doing now?" I ask.

"Like I said, I'm working at this lab, the Center for Genetic Development. It's in New York," she explains. "It's basically a legitimate version of Itex, without all the kidnapping and abuse."

"That's good. We don't need any more kidnapping and abuse."

"It's funded by the government, so it's completely legal," she continues. "It's really a great place. I'm glad to be working there."

"That's good," I say. "What's your family like?"

"My husband, Tim, is the sweetest man ever," she says. "Probably not compared to your boyfriend, though. And I have two daughters. Allie and Christie. Christie's a year younger than you, and Allie is four."

For some reason, I feel compelled to ask her, "Did you...do anything...to them too?"

She shakes her head. "No. I had them the old-fashioned way," she says. "Not that that makes them better than you, or vice-versa. Just different. Everyone's different."

She pauses. "That's why I felt so bad about what I did to you, you know. It makes it a lot harder when you have kids of your own."

"I can see why."

"But you'll fit in just fine," she tells me. "Everyone's so excited to meet you."

We drive through a small city (Stamford, apparently) into a suburban neighborhood. It looks like something out of "Saved by the Bell," or another idyllic TV sitcom.

"This is where I live." Dr. Stevens pulls into a garage attached to a medium-size house. "See the flowers up front? I planted them all myself."

"They're pretty," I tell her.

"Thanks!" she exclaims. "Well, let's get you settled in! We're all going out for dinner tonight. I know you love Italian food."

"Yes, I do." I get out of the car, stretch and grab my bag.

I'm a little nervous. I know she said her family's nice, but I'm still scared. I really don't know what to expect.

A man opens the door. He's tall, wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt that says "UCLA Alumni Weekend."

Mr. Stevens looks nice already. Even more laid-back than Mr. Weiss, and definitely a thousand times better than that Dr. Wilkinson.

"Hey!" he exclaims, hugging Dr. Stevens. "Glad to have you back. And nice to meet you, Phoebe!"

"Nice to meet you too," I say, shyly.

"Well, come on in!" he says, opening the door. "No need to stand in the garage all day, is there?"

"No. That would be pretty stupid," I say, laughing.

"We're home!" Dr. Stevens shouts as we enter the house.

_We're home. _That includes me, I guess.

Nothing's ever felt that good before.


	20. Life Goes On

**A/N: Last chapter before the epilogue! AAAAH! I hope you all enjoyed this story, well, other than the depressing parts of course (: If you want to read more of my stuff, check out A Farewell to Innocence and its sequel, New York, I Love You! Other than that, have a nice day/night/afternoon (:**

**Additional AN: I'm so sorry, I've been majorly neglecting this story ): But I'm gonna finish it up tonight and tomorrow. I'm updating from my phone which is NOT as easy as it sounds, but I'm doing it for you all (: Also, I won't be checking PMs as often so if you'd like to say hi, hit me up on Facebook instead (link in my profile!). **

**Byeee!**

It's been another six months since I've lived with Dr. Stevens, and what can I say? It's been a long and winding road. But I'm happy. I'm happy to be here, living with people who actually care about me.

Here in Connecticut, I truly live in peace. I don't wake up every morning worrying about getting tested on, nor about being found out by the people in my life. I go to school, I have friends, I play sports, and I even have my learner's permit.

I'd say I'm a pretty normal, all-American teenager. Other than my little secret, which only me, a few cops back in California, Dan, and the Stevens family knows about (oh, and the Itex scientists, but they're all in jail now anyway).

It's hard trying to keep it a secret. As asshole-ish as this sounds, being unusually smart isn't as easy as it looks, especially when you're trying to live a normal life. But I've done a good job of hiding it from the people who don't need to know, and Dr. Stevens has been completely helpful at helping me get settled in here.

Alright, so she's not perfect either. She did let the news of my, um, alterations slip to the other scientists she works with. And, as you can probably assume, they wanted to study me. But I politely declined, and luckily, they were understanding, though I was prepared to put up a fight if necessary. I'm just not getting involved in any more tests again.

I know I'm different, special, if you want to call it that. However, I'm serious about living like everyone else. I want to decide where my own life goes. So far, I've done that. And I'm doing it now.

"Dr. Stevens!" I call. "I'm headed out."

I walk into her office, where she's reading some science-y book.

"Where are you going?" she asks. She's pretty laid-back about me doing stuff. I guess it's to make up for letting me be locked up forever when I was younger.

"Into the city," I tell her. The good thing about where I live is, it's only an hour's train ride into Manhattan, where Dan goes to school at NYU.

"Be careful," she warns me. "Do you have enough money?"

I nod.

"Okay. Call me when you're coming back. And watch out for creeps on the subway," she warns me. "Stay away from the projects."

I roll my eyes playfully. "Thanks," I say. "I'll be fine."

"I know you will be," she says, smiling. "I trust you. You're a great girl, Phoebe."

Getting my name right took a few tries, too. When I first moved in here, she slipped up and called me "5308" a few times. But that stopped pretty quickly.

"Again, thanks," I say. "You're not too bad yourself."

She laughs. "Do you need a ride to the station?"

"No thanks. I can walk."

It's a beautiful day out. I don't mind the twenty or so minute walk to the train station. It's not so bad, actually.

Much better than running away from evil scientists in Los Angeles.

"Alright," she finally says with a nod. "Have a wonderful time."

I smile at her. "You too."

"And tell Dan that if he ever gets sick of dorm food, he's always welcome to come up here and spend some time with us," Dr. Stevens adds. "I'm sure he'd love my veggie pizza."

"I'll tell him that," I say. "See you later!"

Once I reach the train station, I buy a ticket-ten bucks, and I've got a ticket to Grand Central Station. Then, I wait, sitting down on one of the benches and looking into the distance.

I see birds flying through the sky. For some reason, this reminds me of Max, the girl with wings I once knew. I know she lives in New York. Is she okay? What's she doing?

She'd be twenty-six or so right now. Wow.

Maybe, after I see Dan, I'll look her up. I'm sure she'd be glad to know I finally got away from Itex.

The ride into the city is equally as pleasant, and there he is, waiting for me at the station.

"Hey, gorgeous," he greets me, kissing my forehead.

"Great to see you," I say, hugging him. "How's the college life?"

"It's good. But it's better with you here," he says. We walk out to the street.

"I love it in the city," I tell him. "It's so…beautiful."

"Have you thought about college yet?"

"I'm thinking Columbia," I say with a smile. "Definitely somewhere around here."

"That'll be great," he says. "I'm definitely going to be sticking around here for a while. How's school going?"

I shrug. "The actual school part's a joke," I say. "Well, you know. I text you through every class."

"You bad girl," Dan jokes.

"Hey, I have to be normal somehow, right?" I tell him. "Anyway, it's all stuff I know. Technically, I'm a high school graduate, remember? But other than the obnoxiously boring part, I've got a great group of friends and all. I really like living in Connecticut."

"How's Dr. Stevens doing?"

I know what he means by that. He's not really asking if she's okay. He's more asking if she's done anything "special" to me since I've started living with her. And the answer is no. Like I said, she actually respects me.

"She's great. She loves working at a job that doesn't involve any type of crime," I tell him. "And her husband and kids are the coolest. Hey, speaking of Dr. Stevens, she asked me to invite you to dinner sometime. I think she likes you almost as much as I do."

Dan laughs. "I may have to take her up on that offer," he says.

"How about tonight?" I ask. I really want him to see that I'm fine. I know he worries about me, but he really doesn't have any reason to.

"I don't know, Phoebe," he jokes. "Rubbery cafeteria pasta's pretty tempting."

"Pleaseee?" I pretend to beg. "I'll be your best friend."

He suddenly picks me up, hugging me. "You already are, Phoebs. But if you insist, I mean, I guess dinner in Connecticut sounds like a pretty sweet deal."

"And if you're lucky, maybe you'll hear one of Mr. Stevens's life lessons," I add.

"Well, now you've got me convinced."

The two of us, as always, have a great day in the city. Today, we go to the High Line and walk around, looking at the view of the Hudson River from the beautiful elevated walkway. After a long day, we return, sun-kissed and happy, to the Stevens house in Stamford, Connecticut.

Allie Stevens, Dr. Stevens's daughter, answers the door.

"Fee-fee!" she shouts. That's what she calls me. Well, not all four-year-olds can be genetically designed to be super smart.

"Hey, Allie!" I say. "This is Dan, my boyfriend."

"Yay!" she exclaims. "Mommy! Fee-fee and her boyfriend are back!"

Dr. Stevens walks towards the door. "Dan! You came after all!"

"Good to see you, Dr. Stevens," Dan says, entering the house. He glances around-probably making sure there aren't any suspicious syringes or test tubes lying around.

"Thanks! And you're right on time, too. Dinner's ready!"

We all sit around a big table. A true family dinner, that's what this is.

I look around at my new-found family, and the boy of my dreams, and I realize something.

This is everything I've hoped for. Everything I wanted, all my life, I finally have. Family. Friends. A boyfriend, one who even tells me I'm beautiful.

I might not have a typical life, but it's my life.


	21. Epilogue

**A/N: So after this chapter, Subject 5308 is DONE! I'll be focusing on New York, I Love You (the sequel to A Farewell to Innocence) after this…but what should I write after that? Feel free to shoot me some ideas! Oh and enjoy the end of this story! **

**One Year Later**

Remember, back when I was thirteen and still nameless, when I said I wanted to have a pool party for my birthday? With a chocolate cake, and friends, and a boy to kiss me and tell me I'm beautiful?

Well, I didn't get that for my sixteenth birthday, my Sweet Sixteen.

What I did get was a limo ride into New York City with all of my friends (plus Dan and the Stevens family), and a huge party in a Times Square hotel ballroom.

I have to say, this is better than anything I could've imagined.

Loud dance music fills my ears as I make my way across the floor to see Dr. and Mr. Stevens, not being helicopter parents and staying out of the way on the side.

"Thank you guys so much," I say, giving the two of them a big hug.

I definitely consider the Stevens's my family. I've accepted that I'll never meet my "real" parents. And you know what? I'm perfectly fine with that. They're either the owners of a random sperm and egg who have no clue I exist, or just lowlifes who gave me up to the lab (you'd be surprised about what people would do). Dr. Stevens and Mr. Stevens are as close to parents as I'll ever get. And they do a damn good job, too.

"No problem," Dr. Stevens says. "You deserve it, sweetie."

"My wallet doesn't," Mr. Stevens pretended to grumble. "Kidding. You're the best."

"Phoebe! Come on!" my best friend, Christina, says, dragging me away from my, um, parents. "They're going to play that song you like. The Pitbull one."

"Awesome!" I exclaim, running off with them.

The party goes all night. Literally. It's one AM and we're still going at it. Hey, that's how it is in the city that never sleeps. And I'm a part of all of it.

I exit the ballroom, my feet aching from a night of dancing in high heels. We all rented rooms in the hotel, so we don't have to head back at this hour.

I spot two girls-young women, really, walking down the hallway, in fancy dresses and high heels. One of them, the tall, dirty-blonde one, glances at me for a second longer than necessary. She looks familiar, somehow, like I've seen her before…

As she walks by me, I see a feather float to the floor. I pick it up suspiciously, and look back at her retreating figure.

Neither her dress or shawl had any feathers on it. I don't see any in her hairpiece, either.

She looks back at me, her eyes meeting mine.

"Excuse me," I say meekly. "You dropped your, um, feather." I hold it out for her.

Her friend stifles a laugh.

"I'll meet you back in the bar, Nudge," she says to her friend.

She then takes the feather from me. "I've seen you before," she says.

"By any chance, is your name Max?" I ask.

She nods. "Oh my God, it's _you_," she says. "From the School."

"What school?"

"Itex," she clarifies. "The lab in California? I always called it the School. You were the one reading all those books."

"That's me," I tell her. "I remember you, too. You told me to believe in myself."

"I did," Max says. "And now you're, you're here! I heard what happened back there. The whole place got shut down."

I nod.

"My father worked there, before he went to prison," Max continued. "He's the reason I have those wings. He tested on me my whole life."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Don't worry about it. It's over now. I escaped with my friend when I was seventeen."

"I know," I tell her. "Everyone there was freaking out after it happened."

"How'd _you _get out?" she asks me.

"One of the scientists there took me out for my birthday, and when she went away I just…left. That's when I met my boyfriend. I got taken back there for a bit, but the police saved me."

She laughs suddenly. "You're lucky they let you leave sometimes. They never did that with _me. _But you probably behaved more than I did."

"I didn't know what else to do," I say, with a shrug. "I was always jealous of you, though. You had everything I wanted."

"I guess," she says. "But so do you now. How'd you get here?"

"I live with Dr. Stevens now. She, um, created me, but she quit working for Itex before everyone got arrested."

I hear Dr. Stevens behind me. "Max Batchelder?" she asks in shock.

"It's Martinez now," Max says.

"Oh, Max! It's been ages," Dr. Stevens says, hugging Max. "And you still have your wings!"

"What else would I do with them?" she says jokingly. "Good to see you, Dr. Stevens. I remember you."

"I just wanted to say, I'm so sorry for everything that happened," Dr. Stevens apologizes. "It really wasn't right at all."

"Aw, don't worry about it. If I remember correctly, you only experimented on me every other day," Max says, in the same sarcastic and funny tone. "But I hope you gave her a name, at least."

"She named herself. Her name is Phoebe," Dr. Stevens says, pointing to me. "I don't think they sell birthday cakes that say 'Happy Birthday, Subject 5308' on them."

We all laugh.

"What have you been up to?" Dr. Stevens asks Max.

"I graduated from Barnard a few years ago, and I'm working in public relations for Marriott. That's why I'm here. We're having a party."

"I'm having my Sweet Sixteen," I blurt.

"That sounds so wonderful!" Dr. Stevens gushes. "I'm working at this lab, the Center for Genetic Development here in the city. Before you get all anxious, we don't do anything illegal, and we're completely nonprofit."

"No kidnapping?"

"No kidnapping," Dr. Stevens assures her.

"Well, that's good," Max says. She looks behind her. "I should get back to the party. But it's great to see you two!"

"You too!" I exclaim.

"Maybe we can grab dinner or coffee sometime," Max offers. "Do you live in Manhattan?"

I shake my head. "I live in Stamford, Connecticut. With the Stevens family. But I come down here all the time."

She writes her phone number down on a scrap piece of paper. "Here's my cell. Text or call whenever. I mean, if it's fine with Dr. Stevens."

"Anything's fine with me," she says.

"It's a plan, then," Max says. "Good luck. Oh, and Phoebe? You did it. I knew you could do it."

She grins before hugging me tightly.

"Phoebe!" I hear behind me. It's Dan. "We're finishing up the cake, so you better get your ass in here if you want the last piece!"

I laugh. "Be right there, Dan."

Saying goodbye to Max, the girl who first told me I could be something in life, I turn back around, and head towards a future that's both completely uncertain and blissfully unpredictable.


End file.
